


Stockholm Syndrome

by frayingthreads



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hope, Portgas D. Ace-centric, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23912968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frayingthreads/pseuds/frayingthreads
Summary: Three months was a short time to get to know everyone, but Ace was content with his place amongst the Whitebeards. Sure, he was nagged at, and overall being made a fuss of, but it wasn't a bad feeling. He only wished he could get closer to everyone quickly so he didn't feel left out anymore. But these feelings are displaced when Ace finds an innocuous book off the shelf of a cafe.
Relationships: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco & Portgas D. Ace, Portgas D. Ace & Whitebeard Pirates
Comments: 24
Kudos: 146





	1. Stockholm Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Cross-posting this here from FF.net. You can find my other works there as well (search for author: Fraying Threads). 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.

“ _Again?_ ”

Ace realised the first division commander must have somehow grown used to him and his bouts of dramatic theatrics when the man didn’t even blink, his eyes tracking the list ( _stupid list_ ) in his hand. His other free hand reached out to pat him on his shoulder, presumably as an act of consolation, because clearly that was all the teen needed to feel better, right?

The ex-Captain’s bottom lip jutted out, the tip of his right boot scuffing the surface of the deck in agitated displeasure. It was unfair, he thought. The Moby Dick was going to dock early that evening- the _entire ship_! That hardly happened. He had learnt since he had given in to join their ranks three months back that they often sent out smaller vessels to islands to restock. If they needed to make a stand or protect an island, they would send a small team out to handle it.

This was different. The Island of Kokorogawi had been the talk of the ship for weeks. It was home to vast meadows, cobbled little streets, small villages scattered across the island, and a neat town square for their festivals. Ace wasn’t sure how that worked, but that was the best descriptors he managed to wring out of his new crewmates, though he still didn’t understand what made the island so special.

_“A labyrinth?”_

_“Yes, yes, that’s the word! We’ve got a smart one here, boys!”_

_“Kokorogawi has one of the most intricate, complex mazes you’d ever have the chance of seeing, kid. People have entered and never left.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Huh? Well, they got lost and couldn’t find their way out.”_

_“Didn’t anyone try to find them?”_

_“Doesn’t matter, kid. That – what was the word? – labyrinth is impossible to navigate without a local to guide you. You go in? You’re spelling the death of anyone who comes after you.”_

That, of course, only made the teen want to go more. He discovered that the Whitebeards made it an annual habit to visit the island’s surprisingly not popular labyrinth to celebrate the founding of the crew. A large enough (though small when compared to the size of the island) part of the labyrinth had been thoroughly explored by them over the years, and they had found a mesmerising clearing somewhere within that that made it a fine place to remember their triumphs and to drink in safety and beauty.

_“Isn’t there other places that’s just as…beautiful?”_

_“It’s tradition, kid. ‘Sides, there’s something magical about that place. I don’t know how to describe it to yah.”_

So, it was a mystery, in Luffy’s words. It was his solemn oath and duty to acknowledge the awakened spirit inside him to explore and discover and see and breathe and-and- _everything!_ It was terribly unfortunate, then, that Ace was strictly not allowed to visit the labyrinth until the celebration in an entire three weeks’ time.

Not that that was going to stop him from arguing. “Why not? Everyone else is going!”

Marco didn’t pause as he licked the tip of his finger before using it to flip his notebook. A light breeze slipped past them, and Ace almost wished it would swipe that offending piece of nonsense into the sky so he could either burn it or chuck it into the sea. “You _are_ going, yoi,” the commander said in that flat tone, as if he had repeated the same thing a million times. It was annoying as hell. “But with the rest of us. In three weeks. When we carry out the celebrations.” A pause. “With everyone else.”

“You’ve said that already,” Ace grumbled. He absolutely did not _whine_.

“I know. And yet you are asking me again.”

Ace crossed his arms. He would have sent an icy glower towards the man, but the blonde wasn’t looking at him still and it’s been made very clear within the past three months (six, if they considered his…first foray into the crew) that the man was as disturbed by the look as he was by kittens. “You know what I mean!”

“And you know what I mean, yoi.” Marco finally seemed to have reach the end of that document as he snapped the notebook shut. He looked up to regard the youth with a stern expression, as if already bracing himself for the worst. “Ace, no.”

Ace gaped at him. No? No?? “No?!” he voiced aloud in incredulity. “I didn’t even say anything!”

Marco didn’t seem moved by the denial. In fact, his countenance only grew more severe. “Ace. It is a labyrinth that we have only explored a tiny part of. The commanders and a few select siblings will need to confirm for ourselves first that nothing has changed since the last time we’ve been here, yoi. It’s extremely dangerous if you wandered on your own.” He raised a hand when the teen moved to speak. “You’re not coming with us in the first trip either. We’re there to do a job, not to have fun.”

The instinctive desire to dig his foot hard in defiance burned within him. Ace had always had a problem with listening to orders. That was the only reason he refused to sail with Luffy. He’d sooner drown himself than serve the little rubbery boy. Even if travelling the world with the kid was his biggest dream, even above finding the worth of his own life. Because in the end… He mentally shook the thought off. But he was with the Whitebeards now. He had made a decision and he should respect that. Surely he had thought this worth it when he gave in three months ago, right?

Ace let loose a sigh, feeling his body go relaxed. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll stay on the ship with everybody else.”

He thought he might have missed an odd expression crossing the older man’s features, but it was gone as quick as it had come.

Marco squeezed his shoulders. A small smile drifted to his lips, erasing that earlier look of adamant refusal. “Thank you for understanding,” he said, his smile warming even further. “I suppose it might hearten you, then, to know that you can head off to the island with the rest of your siblings while we prepare for the celebrations, yoi. Only the labyrinth is off-limits.”

Ace perked up in excitement. Oh? He wasn’t going to be confined to the ship? “Really?”

The blonde commander looked amused as the teen waved a fist in the air in triumph, already going on about what he’d look for and do on solid land. He was going to find a good present for Luffy to remind him his brother was alive and well. Maybe a nice jar of stones for Makino. Dadan and the bandits might like an animal rug or something. He’d be sure to sew his message into the rug so Dadan would have an excuse to keep the letter. If he was feeling generous enough, he’d even get something for Garp, that old man.

Marco let out a soft, pleasant laugh when Ace barely took in another breath to continue. “Looks like you’ll be quite busy on your own, hmmm?” he mused. He playfully shoved the tip of his cowboy hat over his eyes. “And here I was worried that you’d be plotting for something to do.”

Ace swiped at his hands, grinning. “Don’t give me ideas. Then it would be your fault.”

“Oh? Mine?”

A vigorous nod. “ _All_ yours. In fact…I might just be thinking of….hmmm.”

The blonde turned wary. “What is it?” he asked when no answer was forthcoming.

A devilish smirk danced across the teen’s lips as he wagged a finger in reply. And then he said the word he had also learnt Marco hated to hear: “Nothing!”

“Hey- Ace. Come back here!”

* * *

“What do you usually do when you dock?” Ace asked curiously. He had learnt in his brief time as captain that…there really was little to do in the world other than sightseeing, eating, and exploring places he had never seen before- ergo, sightseeing. And he had seen so few things back on Dawn Island he really couldn’t be blamed for his eagerness to see the world. He remembered once, on some island popular with tourists, his gleeful excitement to cover every inch of the amusement park. They had rollercoasters that shot through the very skies before doubling back in sharp, 360 degree turns as the vehicle danced through loops set ablaze to dramatise the effects. There was even this rather odd contraption where he’d had to strap himself to a seat before they launched him into the air, the wind slapping his face so hard he thought his teeth would fall off.

He recalled having fun, but he also remembered feeling disappointed. Fights were more thrilling than that. Was piracy really just…that?

“Take a breather,” Jozu answered, his face the same unsmiling mask he had always sported since probably the beginning of time. “It does wonders when your feet touch solid ground after months on the seas.”

Ace tilted his head. He was sitting across the commander in the dining hall, his arms propped up on the table as he rested his chin on the palm of his hands. “That’s all?”

Jozu shoved another sandwich into his mouth, taking his time to chew. His dark eyes regarded the teen with an odd look (but then, Ace thought everyone gave him odd looks. He had given up trying to fathom why) before the expression cleared. “You’re bored, aren’t you?” the man said, almost sounding amused.

Ace felt his eyebrows furrow. “No, I’m not,” he defended. “Just…curious. I want to know what I should expect. Never done this before. Never done this with you guys before. Never seen caves everyone keeps gushing about. I want to know what else I can do.”

The commander accepted his answer. “We do what we always do. We get on land, we introduce ourselves again, we wander and explore, drink, spend time together. And if necessary, we kick some ass.”

Ace turned away, for some reason suddenly remembering Marco. “I’d like to kick some ass,” he muttered under his breath.

There was a sharp exhale across from him, sounding suspiciously like a snort, and the fire-user was already scowling at Jozu’s unsurprisingly blank countenance. “What’s funny?” he demanded.

The teen wasn’t sure how to feel then, when for the first time he had boarded the Moby Dick, Diamond Jozu cracked his first smile at him. There was something strange about the experience, how seeing just that twitch at the corners of that man’s lips before it slowly widened into a small curved smile made something in Ace light up in curious warmth. Was this- what was this?

Jozu appeared oblivious to his inner musings. “Don’t go around kicking people’s ass, kid. Marco’s fond of you, that old turkey. You’re going to give him grey hairs if you go around picking a fight.”

“What if I want to fight him?” Ace asked without thinking.

The commander’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He dropped his half-eaten drumstick onto his plate as that smile stretched into a full-blown grin. “Not yet, but when this trip is over, you better try, kid. I’d love to see that.”

The instinctive urge to smile back pushed at Ace, and he found himself biting his lip as he returned the almost fond look shot his way. There was something strangely odd going on, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. But somehow, Jozu smiling at him made him happy. It made him feel…welcome, as if his presence – still new and tentative on the ship – was appreciated.

Not that this feeling wasn’t ridiculous. Ace had long observed the commanders and the captain on the ship while he was happily trying to take down Whitebeard. They were important, his mind supplied, as they were the important ones- the powerful ones. Watch them, his brain insisted. Otherwise he might be taken off guard and be on his knees so quickly he’d deserve it. It was only expected then that he would catch the little details that personalised each one. Like how Thatch demonstrated his affection through his food and his jokes. How Marco expressed his concern through his frown and his constant questions. How Whitebeard- nah, he couldn’t tell yet.

Jozu was an easy enough read. He showed he cared with a grunt or two. He would linger by the subject of his concern with barely a word. His strong hulking presence was often enough assurance that the other was not alone. And he…he rarely smiled. He only did so with those he liked, those that he approved of. Ace…wondered what that meant now that he was getting smiles too.

For some reason, the fire-user wanted to see more of that.

“At least you’ll have fun,” he found himself saying. “You’ll get to see the labyrinth ahead of time. I want to see it to.” His bottom lip unknowingly jutted out.

The commander shook his head. “I won’t be,” he disagreed.

Ace leaned back in surprise. “Why not? Don’t you like it? They said it’s beautiful. Were they exaggerating? Is it really not that great to begin with? It sounded fascinating.”

Jozu’s look was of a man holding back a laugh, if the way his shoulders suddenly shook. “I see what Marco means now,” he said under his breath, low enough that Ace almost couldn’t hear. Then, before the teen could ask, he went on, “It’s, as you say, kid, ‘fascinating’. But Marco doesn’t like me going with him.”

“What? Why not?”

The older man’s features turned sheepish. It looked curiously befitting of a man his size. “The labyrinth isn’t a manmade cave. It’s natural cave that’s been shaped by a fair bit of ice.” He shrugged. “I get cold when we hit the cold areas. I tend to turn to diamond when I get cold. Diamond and ice tend to blend together. Marco doesn’t like that I can camouflage myself well there.”

Ace’s forehead lined in thought. Camouflage...? His eyes widened. “You didn’t…” he whispered in utter shock.

A glint of amusement slid into Jozu’s eyes, as if bracing himself for something. “Marco is very easy to scare when he’s comfortable, kid. You should try it.”

Oh. _Oh_.

After he managed to calm down slightly from his sudden burst of laughter, Ace choked out, “You’re more than you appear, Commander Jozu.” He grinned playfully. “I think I might just like you.”

A snort. “You _think_? Marco isn’t the only pirate around here, kid.” Jozu leaned over the table in a manner so conspiratorial Ace remembered three sake cups over a tree trunk. This time, a smirk crossed the commander’s fierce features. “What about it, Ace? Ditch Marco and we’ll see you have more fun than you ever could with that stick in the mud.”

Ace affected a look of exaggerated stunned betrayal. “First encouraging me to fight our first commander. Now telling me to ditch him?” he asked in mock horror. His lips stretched into a grin. “Why, I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

Kokorogawi Island, it turned out, was wholly unimpressive. It was a relatively large island compared to its far distant neighbours and was nestled within a part of the New World that saw few increment weathers. The villages were composed of wooden buildings with low roofs- at least that’s what the fire-user thought until he came close enough to see that the wooden structures were, in fact, modelled after such a design. This place was barely a village, he came to realise as he strolled alongside Jozu. It was practically a town.

Some buildings chuffed out black smoke from the chimneys, while some stretched so tall Ace wasn’t quite sure how he’d missed them when he arrived. This island was clearly home to people who had enjoyed peace for years. Children milled the streets, some without the accompaniment of parents, and all the while the occasional ring of laughter filled the air. It was like seeing one of Sabo’s bedtime stories to Luffy come to life. Ace _loved_ it.

“What’s that?”

Jozu obligingly turned to peer at whatever it was the fire-user was pointing at this time. His face twitched when he spotted what it was. “That is a café.”

“A café?”

A brief silence. “Yes.” Another pause. “It is where people go to have coffee.”

Ace nodded, absorbing the information like he would a sponge. “Coffee,” he repeated. “Then why do they have seats? You don’t need a long time to have coffee.”

“Not everyone chokes themselves quite as enthusiastically as you, Ace,” Jozu commented, the heavy weight of his hand slapping the teen on his shoulder, albeit none too gently.

Ace flushed and made a concerted effort to look away. “I don’t drink coffee,” he muttered. “That’s not me at all.”

The commander must have heard him for he heard an immediate snort. Ace scowled. He turned to push at the much larger man. If he put just enough force into it, he was sure he could push the man over, first one-on-one outing be damned. His new crewmates have got to learn he could be pretty violent some day anyway. No point hiding it now. Except the older man had somehow caught on to his plan and was now rubbing at his hair like he would a pet dog.

“Nah, that’s not you. You don’t look the type to want to settle down for some down time in a café anyway.”

Ace almost shook his head to get rid of the hands in his hair but thought the better of it. He really would be imitating a dog then. “What? Really? Why?” he asked as he swiped at the heavy weight on his scalp.

Jozu decided to show him mercy and removed his hand, even as they continued down the cobbled paths. They attracted odd looks from the crew members, probably appearing as an odd paired combination, given that Ace had mostly stuck with Marco, Thatch, Marco, Whitebeard, Marco, Izo, and Marco only. Damn, he realised, what if he was too obvious with his preference of the blonde male over everybody else? That would be embarrassing.

The current commander by his side derailed his train of thoughts. “Enjoying a cup of coffee in a café is what everybody does,” he explained. “You seem the type to run off after adventures than sit down for a breather, you get what I mean?”

“I don’t know,” the fire-user answered as he thought about it. He loved adventures, of course- that’s what made life interesting! But… “I might like it. Try it one day. I’ve never really done what everybody else does. I don’t know what everybody else does.” He kicked a stone on the ground absent-mindedly. “I want to try normal too someday.”

Ace waited for a response. When none came, he looked up, wondering if perhaps Jozu hadn’t heard him or had tired of the conversation, then stopped short when he caught the commander gazing down at him with the strangest expression on his face. It almost resembled Marco’s contemplative frowns (the man had various frowns, believe it or not), when he saw something he didn’t quite know what to think of.

“What?” the teen asked, almost self-conscious.

Jozu blinked, and then the expression was gone. “Nothing,” he said gruffly. “Come on, kid, you hungry yet?”

Ace perked up in an instant. “Hungry? Yes! Are we going to eat now? Is the food great? Marco didn’t say anything about the food, now that I think of it. Why would he leave that out? Is the food so good he didn’t want me to-” He shut up as another word caught up to him. He turned to glare at his now crew member, who, for some reason, seemed to be laughing again. “I’m not a kid!”

* * *

Ace waved goodbye to Jozu’s retreating back, trying his absolute best to hide the smile of soft satisfaction. It wouldn’t do to show the man how much he had enjoyed their brief time together.

It surprised him, it did, that he had. Out of the commanders, Jozu had looked to be the most hardened one. He looked fierce, his features almost harsh as he looked upon the people around him. Ace didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but the whole outward exterior was…intimidating. He didn’t want to approach the man only to be rebuffed. Still, he wanted to be accepted. He wanted to get over these first few months of tentative ‘hellos’ and ‘nice to meet you’s so he could be as comfortable with everyone as they seemed with each other. He knew it wasn’t realistic to think everyone would like him, but they were all so unbelievably kind to him. A rejection would break that spell, he knew. That illusion that _all_ of them wanted him as he wanted to become one of them. Though one rejection didn’t mean much in the whole scheme of things, given the size of Whitebeard’s crew. But still…

It was all but a pleasant surprise to discover the man beneath Jozu’s hard appearance. He was warm in his own way, mischievous even. Not in the same way Marco was, of course. The first commander was friendly, but he always held himself back, and he wasn’t all rainbows and sunshine either. Huh. Now that he thought about it, Marco was pretty darn fierce too. He recalled not too long ago the man’s utterly cold demeanour when an enemy ship had challenged Whitebeard. It had sent a chill down the teen’s spine, so unused to seeing the man without his shadow of concern and warm, assuring smiles.

Ace shook himself. It didn’t matter. He would learn about them all soon enough. Patience, he thought, was what he needed.

He began to wander away into the village once more. It was unfortunate that Jozu had to be called away for some emergency on the ship. But now that he had time to himself, the fire-user knew the first thing he would try now that he was alone.

The sound of a bell chiming to announce his arrival into the small café was almost startling, reminding him quite vividly of the restaurants he and his brothers used to dine and dash at. It would ring when they entered, and rang again when they shot off, laughing all the while. Ace stood at the door, quite uncertain, as he eyed the quaint little shop. The room was painted a light pastel pink, and the ceilings were adorned with hanging lights, each designed to resemble the night sky. Ace thought he spotted a few stars here and there, a moon, and perhaps the sun. There were eight tables, each only for two, arranged neatly across the room. Two were occupied, despite the crowd outside.

“Welcome!” a cheerful voice greeted him.

Ace turned to see a young girl in her early teens beaming at him behind the counter. “Hello,” he said politely. “I came to…” Uhhh… He glanced around the shop, suddenly quite unsure what it was he was to do here. Jozu said coffee, right? “Coffee?”

The staff-girl-lady only grinned wider. “Of course!” She gestured him over. “What would you like?”

And there it began Ace’s little plunge into horror as he saw an entire list of coffee choices (or tea. Or milkshake. Or milk.) he could choose from. His widened eyes must have clued in the staff-girl-lady for she softened in her approach, slowing down to kindly explain what was what to his pirate-addled brain.

“I don’t know,” he groaned to himself. “Why is this so hard? How do you remember this?”

The staff-girl-lady – Sora, he corrected himself as he glanced at her nametag – laughed. “I work here,” she explained, as if that was enough. He could work here a year and still not remember anything.

“Why don’t you surprise me?” he asked in desperation. “You’d know best, right?”

Sora seemed to light up at this. She clapped her hands in glee. “Alright! Why don’t you take a seat? Will anyone else be coming in with you?”

Ace blinked at her. Jozu said people came here for coffee. Why would anyone come with him? “Uh, no. Just myself.”

Sora nodded. She pointed at the bookshelves at the end of the room. “You can take any book there, if you want, so long as you return it before you leave. If you’re staying long, that is. I’ll get you your surprise drink now!”

Book? Ace had been told many times what he should do, but to be suggested to read a book was odd. He looked between the bookshelf to Sora, and back again. She didn’t seem to mean him any ill will. What could getting someone to read a book do to harm him…right? Or maybe, he thought in growing confusion, reading a book in a café was normal behaviour? Was that why there were tables and chairs here? He didn’t think people took a long time to drink coffee. He eyed the other occupants in the room. One was…staring into space, his mug of something oddly pink abandoned on the table. The other was busy scribbling into a notebook. His coffee, too, was left unattended. Maybe Jozu forgot to tell him that a café was a place to do productive work?

Huh.

Not a moment later and Ace found himself before the bookshelves. He scanned the rows of books, not seeing any point to any of them, before deciding to take a chance. He closed his eyes, ran his fingers over the books, and counted to ten. He stopped the moment he snagged at one book at the tenth count.

He hummed as he pulled it out. His fingers brushed across the covers, somehow remembering a soft voice in his head, telling him about the tragic backstory of some noble from distant pasts. Ace didn’t like reading. But he read anyway, because it reminded him of his dear little brother. The one that was no more.

For a brief moment, he toyed with the idea of leaving. It probably wasn’t a good idea. To read, alone, in a public setting where he might actually break down and cry? Remembering Sabo always made him want to cry.

Ace was about to put the book back when Sora appeared behind him.

“Oh, have you picked out your book yet?”

Ace tensed. “Oh, uh, yeah.”

Sora peeked at it. Her young features shifted into surprise. “Oh? I heard it’s very educational. You might find it interesting. You could always change it out later if you get bored.”

The fire-user felt himself relaxing. Educational. He could do that. Silly him. He smiled when Sora pointed him at one of the tables in the corner, his drink already on the table and waiting. It looked an interesting shade of red and blues.

Sora laughed when he looked to her in curiosity. “Try it! It’s a surprise.”

“I’ll hold you to it then,” he returned, easily finding her easy-going attitude infectious.

When he was finally settled down for his first of many adventures of doing normal things, Ace gently placed the book on the table. A little flitter of excitement thrummed through him. This was going to be good. If not, well, he’d be disappointed, but he’d ditch this for another normal-thing to do. Sabo wouldn’t have expected him to continue anyway.

Ace’s eyes were drawn to the title of the book.

He whispered to himself, “ _The Intricate Web of Tailored Ties: Exploring the Mysteries of Stockholm Syndrome._ ”

It did sound interesting, at the very least.

* * *

It was incredibly odd how one moment he was holding his breath, waiting for the pull of the next adventure, seated as he was in the sleepy village nestled within Kokorogawi Island. And the next, he was lost in the sea of words and letters and explanations and _everything_ he thought he wouldn’t care about.

_Stockholm Syndrome has long been debated by psychiatrists across the Grand Line, whether to be categorised as a mental illness or as the result of unexpected intimacy borne out of desperate and dire situations._

_These arguments reflect the natural difficulties in understanding how a victim of crime may have inadvertently developed emotional attachments to their captors._

Ace thumbed the cover on the book, his lips pursed in deep thought. The word _Ties_ was beautifully decorated, designed in a way that, if studied correctly, it could have been read as _Lies_. How fitting.

As he read, he felt a small part of his mind wander. He has had few good things in his life. He could name all the luck he has been privileged enough to have on one hand. It was only recently that he had added the Whitebeards to the list. He cared for them. There was something in the manner they attended to him that slowly infused this odd curl of warmth in his very bones. Like the way Whitebeard insisted on holding him close. Or how Marco would listen to his every word, as if each was a treasure too precious to miss. Thatch, Izo, Jozu…and everyone else he had yet to really get to know- it made him afraid and excited.

He wanted to know his new crew. He _wanted_ so badly.

But…what was this new unpleasant feeling churning inside him? The more he flipped through the pages, the more severe his frown became. The cold brushes of a nagging thought slipped through his head, strong enough to derail his earlier happy thoughts of his crew.

_Stockholm Syndrome has rarely been documented across the years, though critics argue that fears of stigmatisation have deterred any potential victims from coming forward. What is generally understood of this phenomenon, however, is the anchored belief that there is a close connection between victim and captor. These connections to the very people who had put the victim in terrifying situations is, for the few recorded cases available, often strong enough that victims defend them even in court._

_Many psychiatrists argue that this is reason enough to label this syndrome as a mental illness. It is, after all, perceived as atypical behaviour to see one’s captors as anything but._

Ace was interrupted by a slight cough to his side.

“I’m sorry! The café will be closed in ten minutes. Is there anything else I can do for you?” Sora was looking at him apologetically, appearing so genuine that Ace felt slightly guilty.

He looked about the café in surprise when he saw that he was the only one left. “Oh. I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that the time was passing so quickly.”

Sora smiled at him. “You like the book then?”

“I…did,” Ace said. He glanced at the book, then the clock, then the door, biting his lip all the while. Maybe if he reserved it for the next day? He could do that, couldn’t he? He wasn’t sure why he wanted to. Something about the book unnerved him.

“I heard the Whitebeards will be here for the next three weeks, right?” Sora was asking him. Her head tilted in thought. “If you can return the book before your ship leaves, that’ll be fine too!”

Ace perked up, somewhat startled at her generosity. “Really? But wouldn’t you get into trouble?”

The waitress-cum-barista shook her head. “You’re new, I think. The Whitebeards come here every year. They’ve always been rowdy, but they’ve also always been kind.” Her grin turned mischievous. “Besides, you don’t return that book and I’m telling your Captain on you!”

The fire-user couldn’t help but laugh. “Right. Whitebeard would get on my head for that.” He held the book close to his chest. “Thanks, Sora,” he said gratefully. “I really appreciate this.”

* * *

“So what were you up to today, little chicken salad with a cute little cherry on top?”

Despite his slowly plunging mood, Ace felt his eye twitch at the horrible, horrible, _horrible_ nickname the head chef had the audacity to call him with. He stopped in his tracks, dead in the middle of the hallways leading to his room, to turn an incensed glower at the _of course_ grinning brunette.

Said brunette must have a death wish too, when he chortled all too happily at the younger pirate’s reaction. “What’s wrong with my little blueberry muffin? You look a little… _blue_.”

Ace drew in a deep breath, before shooting the chef the most profound and debilitating death glare he could muster. “Are you really doing this again?” he complained.

Thatch’s dark eyes seemed to twinkle. He threw an arm around the younger pirate’s neck and began dragging him along. “Come on, I’ve wanted a little brother for _years_. When you came along, it was like my prayers were finally answered. Surely you understand why I’m so fond of my pesky little pie.”

“As creepy as it is to be given nicknames after food,” Ace said dryly, “I’m the _youngest_. You have other younger brothers older than me that you can annoy the hell out of.”

“But you give the best reactions.”

“What? Like setting that stupid volume of hair on your head on fire?”

Ace observed with mild interest how the older man actually paled at the threat. Not that he would have gone with it, but knowledge was power, right? Besides, he’d heard what the others had said about this particular commander. He wasn’t the strongest of the 15 commanders, but he held the unique ability to remember every move an enemy made once, going so far as to break it down into steps that he could counter with his own. Enemies often underestimated him for his jovial attitudes and easy-going smiles, but it would prove a deadly mistake as he, and Ace quoted, “danced as well with his twin blades as he does with the kitchen knives”.

But Ace also remembered how Thatch was described as the most soft-hearted commanders they had on board. He cared to a fault, and he always went out of his way to help soothe his family’s worries. And if this sometimes manifested in poorly planned pranks or unflattering jokes, no one protested. Not really.

“You wouldn’t do that…would you?” Thatch was laughing, the arm around Ace’s shoulder rubbing at the teen’s neck like a gentle headlock.

Ace shrugged. “I don’t know. Are you going to make me all the food you keep calling me?”

Thatch opened his mouth as if to throw a rebuttal when he paused. The slow smile blooming across his lips lit up his face in delight. “Of course I will!” he declared. A second later and he frowned. “Although it might taste weird. I’ve never actually made blueberry muffins before. They always sound so artificial… Or you know, a pesky little pie.”

Ace was unable to keep his own smile from forming, but he did roll his eyes. Honestly. Luffy would love this man. “You could always cook part of yourself, couldn’t you? You’re pesky as it is,” he said as he shoved the arm off his shoulders and quickly walking ahead.

“Hey! That’s mean.”

“Whatever, you old’ chicken and beef pie muffin salad.”

“That’s not even a real food!”

Ace politely (in his very humble opinion) tolerated the incessantly loud Thatch as they both made their way down the corridor. He wasn’t quite sure yet if the man was following him or was just going the same way, but he couldn’t deny the small tinge of amusement at his odd antics. It reminded him of his youngest brother. Luffy never understood social boundaries and personal space. He did whatever he liked. Except Thatch wasn’t as selfish as his kid brother. This pirate shared his food and he always ensured his crew members were well fed.

“Hey, what’s that in your hand?”

Ace started, suddenly remembering the quaint little book he had tucked under his arm as he returned to the ship. An unexpected burst of anxiety shot through him at the thought of revealing the book’s contents to his crewmate, so surprisingly intense he took a forceful step back from the other older pirate. To his credit, Thatch had frozen in an instant, his curious expression morphing into immediate composure, as if he somehow knew he had crossed some boundaries.

Ace swallowed in the sudden silence, his throat not quite working, as his mind scrambled for an explanation. Not that there was- he didn’t even know why! The discomfiting feeling beating in his chest was nowhere near gone and he couldn’t pinpoint why he was so afraid of Thatch lunging forward for the book.

The chef must have sensed that no answer was forthcoming. An easy smile stretched his lips and, just like that, his hardened features brightened. It was almost scary how one expression could calm the fire-user so easily. “Sorry about that,” he said cheerfully. “I sometimes forget that we all need space.” He tilted his head towards the kitchens. “I’m going to make some of that food you asked for. Want to come along?”

Ace blinked away what might have been surprise at the change in topic. “Uh no,” he laughed awkwardly. “I’m just…I was going to my room to, uh, rest after a long day.”

Thatch just ruffled at his hair and nodded, before bidding him goodbye.

Now the teen was confused, guilty, and somehow mad at himself for his behaviour. He turned his attention to the innocent book in his hand. What was that?

* * *

_“You know, your arrogance will kill you one day.”_

_Marco – the Commander of the First Division to the strongest man in the world, Whitebeard – only tilted his head in that annoying way of his, as if seriously contemplating his words, as if the very act did not drip with condescension. Deep cerulean eyes met his, guarded and unblinking._

_“I can see why you’d say that, yoi,” he said, the words rolling of his tongue with practised ease. As if he was discussing about something as trivial as the weather. “I won’t deny we can be too complacent at times. I’ve told my siblings many times to watch their back better.” He sighed. “They never listen.”_

_Ace won’t deny he was taken aback by the words and the easy admittance. What was he to say to that?_

_Marco continued to regard with him that same intense look. The younger pirate had the feeling he was meant to feel at ease in the other man’s presence, in the way the commander carried himself purposefully with a calm air of assurance about him, in the way he tried to look harmless. Ace was not fooled in the least._

_“With the kind of example you’re setting for them,” he found himself finally saying, “you’re not actually surprised by that, are you?”_

_“What kind of example am I setting?”_

_“Not just you. Your captain, the rest of your commanders.” The teen pursed his lips. There was no need to explain anything. Why did he even bother? But he did somehow, as more words were drawn to his tongue. “You may think I’m weak, but I’m an enemy nonetheless. You bring me here onto your ship, leave me free to roam as I please, and you try to befriend me.” He let out a breath. “I don’t know how anything else could spell ‘arrogant’ to me more than that.”_

_“Like I said, I can understand why you’d say that, yoi,” Marco answered. “But if believing in the orders of our Captain is arrogance, then so be it. If our faith is that weak, then we shouldn’t be a crew at all.”_

_Damn the man for always having something to say. And it couldn’t have been a simple short answer, no. It had to speak of grand philosophical things that Ace never liked to think about._

_“So you’re arrogant, lame_ and _stupid,” Ace muttered. “Way to convince me to join the crew.”_

_A soft chuckle greeted his ears. “You’ll turn around some day.”_

_Ace’s eyes narrowed in challenge. “You don’t know that. You don’t even know me.”_

_Marco’s rugged yet handsome features slowly shifted, and quite suddenly he looked every inch the smirking, over-confident commander that the teen had first seen. “You don’t know that either, yoi. You seem the type to be arrogant, lame and stupid enough to join us, after all.”_

_“Excuse me?!”_

_“You’ll be here long enough to see what I mean, little firefly.”_

_Ace squared his shoulders, little bursts of fire flickering over his shoulders. “I won’t_ ever _join you, Whitebeard,” he hissed. “Not even in your wildest dreams.”_

* * *

Ace blinked as he stared blankly at the ceiling of his room. It was an odd experience, remembering how, mere months before, he had been so full of hostility towards the crew. To think he had snapped at them, had imagined throwing them off board, had pushed at Marco until the man stood still and silent against a wall. Now that he thought of it, he remembered the little things he had done to tear them away, to keep them from coming closer, to force them out.

Throwing Thatch’s food made specifically for him at his feet.

Ripping the clothes Izo had found for him.

Refusing to be saved when Namur came to fetch him from an untimely trip into the sea.

Snapping at Haruta to leave him out of his practical jokes, because not everyone was trying to be a child.

Punching Marco and screaming to be let go because _he didn’t want this he didn’t want this please stop making me think I do!_

Falling to his knees when Whitebeard reached out to him with his one giant hand.

It was almost disturbing as he tried to remember how he had struggled against their offer. The way he thought, the way he felt- it was a stark difference to how he felt now. He wouldn’t have believed him if he travelled back in time to tell him of the future. How did you explain that your feelings changed?

But…why did it change, he wondered. At which point had he begun to see the Whitebeards as potentially friendly rather than as an enemy? When had he started believing they didn’t want him dead? When did he feel like he wanted to belong?

Ace rubbed at the centre of his chest, right above where his heart should be. It was stupid and ridiculous and…he turned to eye the book he had left next to his pillow. It had taken an innocent text to kick him into reflecting upon himself. He had accepted his change of heart, had decided to roll with his instincts and feelings (like how Luffy always did and how Sabo always wanted him to: _follow your heart, Ace, for once listen to it!_ ). But when he started reading the book and began to make out certain patterns through the case studies, he had developed the strangest feelings of unease coursing through him, like an insidious poison slipping through his veins.

Because Stockholm Syndrome sounded too real. It sounded just like him.

He was the victim. The Whitebeards were the captors.

Just…what was he to make of that?

Were his feelings all the result of careful manipulation? Was he being made a fool out of?

A pulsing ache reverberated through his head and he closed his eyes with a sigh. A headache. Exactly what he needed. It didn’t help that, in the next moment, someone knocked on the door.

“Ace?” Namur’s voice rang through.

Ace rolled to his feet, deciding to push aside his racing thoughts for now and to focus on the present. He wasn’t going to understand his head within the next five seconds anyway.

He sucked in a deep breath, rolled back his shoulders, and opened the door with a smile. “Hey Namur. Did you need something?”

The commander gave the teen a lookover (probably an unconscious reaction, the teen was sure) and offered a sharp-toothed smile in return, surprising the younger pirate. It wasn’t that Namur never smiled. He had overheard a conversation that the fishman felt self-conscious with the way his teeth jutted out. He looked threatening, and he hated to feel threatening to his family.

Ace found his smile turning genuine.

“You weren’t at breakfast today,” the older pirate started. “I was passing by your room and thought I’d check in on you.”

“Oh. I just, uh, well, I just woke up,” the teen admitted sheepishly.

Namur’s grin stretched wider. “I can see that. Well, glad you’re doing okay, Ace. I was worried you got into a fight with Marco again.”

Ace blinked. “Why would you think that?”

“He looked exceptionally concerned this morning when you didn’t show up. And he looked guilty.” Namur shrugged, though he didn’t lose that glint of mirth in his eyes. “You know how he is.”

Ace thought back to his conversation with the blonde the day before. It couldn’t be that the man felt bad about denying him his request to join them, could it? That would be ridiculous. Even Ace in all his stubbornness understood the rationale behind the decision.

“Huh. He’s a weird guy.”

Namur snorted. “Aren’t we all?” Then, in a gesture that was equally heart-warming and awkward, the fishman lifted his hand and patted the teen on his shoulder. “Well then,” the man said in an attempt to re-spark the earlier easy-going air, “I’ll leave you to your breakfast. Thatch saved something for you, but I’d imagine Marco would come looking for you soon enough if you aren’t quick.”

Ace nodded, opting for a quick ‘thanks’ because he was no genius at making conversation either. When he closed the door, his heart now thumped with a steady beat, working to ease the warmth of contentment warring with the ache for acceptance in his chest.

He loved being remembered, and he was quickly realising how much he still felt left out. But the Whitebeards were trying and…his eyes were drawn back to the book on his bed.

Really, what were the chances anyway?

* * *

“How do you even remember everyone?” Ace complained. He glared at the names he had scribbled across his palm that morning, after he had been accosted by a harried blonde commander, who then had proceeded to disappear into seas-knew-where.

Izo calmly bit into an apple by his side, glancing at the names for a moment before smiling. It was the time Ace liked to call Post-Breakfast Snack, because he was certainly not eating enough and there was no way he’d let that secret out for all to know. Though he couldn’t help the little runs to the kitchens and feasting hall for more every one to two hours. The crew assumed it was normal for a growing kid (they have never had a crewmate as young as him, and the next closest had at least a ten-year-gap, surprisingly) and generally indulged him with those stupid goofy smiles.

“There’s over a thousand of us. It will take some time, of course,” the kimono-clad pirate answered after he swallowed a bite.

Ace paused as the implications of the statement sank in. He slowly turned to stare wide-eyed at the commander. “You don’t mean to say _everyone_ remembers everyone?”

“I wouldn’t say that…” Izo trailed off as he thought about it. “Oyaji and Marco are the only ones who knows each one of us. Doesn’t take them more than a second to recognise a crewmate, no matter how long they’ve been away. And you’d imagine it would be difficult to maintain a crew if you don’t remember who they are.”

Ace couldn’t help the flinch at this. He imagined being forgotten – of all things – after the rollercoaster ride of emotion he had suffered through before joining them. He didn’t think he’d survive the resulting hurt if Whitebeard or the commanders he had come to know forgot who he was. That…wasn’t possible, was it? What if they sent him to one of their smaller ships and he’d have to stay there for years? He remembered his earlier doubts about the crew. That their ideology of family was too idealistic, too impossible… Maybe he wasn’t too far off the mark, was he?

Unaware of his thoughts, Izo continued, “The division commanders are required to know everyone in their division, of course. We are charged with their protection and well-being, and it’s easier to do when we know they are. And motivation is a very strong factor.” He took another bite. “Marco’s really the only one who worries over each one of us as if we are in his division. He can’t help it, it’s part of who he is.” He paused and suddenly threw the fire-user a smirk. “So, be understanding if he hovers, alright? He’s a little anxious since we’ve never had anyone so young.”

Ace almost crossed his hands before he remembered the ink on his palms. He scowled instead. “That’s just weird, okay? You guys keep talking as if I’m this weird other species you’ve never interacted with before. I’m just a little younger than you’re used to.”

Izo covered his mouth, as if trying to hide his amusement. “Try to be understanding, won’t you?” he said between muffled laughter. “You’re younger than us. That means how you see things aren’t how we see things. We don’t want to hurt you or offend you by accident. We’re just being a little more careful.”

“Just be the way you are, it’s not that hard! I made a choice when I joined you, didn’t I? I’m not going to fall to pieces just because we have different opinions,” Ace shot back exasperatedly. Honestly, was it that hard for them to understand? Like, sure, their careful attention made him want to hide his face in his blankets, so they wouldn’t see how red his face became. How he’d feel this building curl in his chest that had nothing to do with his fire that somehow made him want to break into stupid smiles, that he resisted with all his strength. Well, sure, it wasn’t a bad feeling, but…it didn’t mean he _wanted_ it.

Ace was still scowling at his hands when he realised Izo was watching him with what might have been mild surprise.

“I know,” the man said after a moment, the inflections in his words somehow strange. He reached out an arm to rest across the teen’s shoulders before dragging him into his side. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t want to take care of you. You’re our youngest now.”

Ace just slumped. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he said. It was just easier to resign himself to losing this argument for the rest of his life. “The novelty will run off soon enough, or at least until the next one who’s younger than me joins,” he commented offhandedly. The teen missed the brief frown that flashed across the commander’s countenance at that, as he refocused on the list of names scrawled over his skin. “What do I do about this then? Who the heck is Samy from third division? And…Hoshi…from second? Asaha, Manta-kun? Why is there a ‘kun’ at the end? How am I supposed to find them when I don’t know who they are?”

He stopped his griping when a hand lightly brushed at his hair. He turned to see Izo leaning forward to look at the names proper.

“They are the ones you shared a room with before you set your bed on fire, Ace. They were your room mates.”

Ace immediately flushed. “T-that was an accident,” he mumbled as the same shame coiled within him. He had never been as mortified at himself as he had that night when he had had a bad dream. He was never loud when he had nightmares, but something about the horror of that night had crossed into the world of the living somehow. His agitated state had sensed danger, and that was all it took before he sent a burst of heat into the room. And then his bed caught fire.

Whitebeard had made it clear he was to have his own room from then on. That, or he shared with Marco. Who was fireproof. Marco had surprisingly looked okay with such an arrangement, not at all bothered by the possible intrusion into his private spaces, but he had also been the one to refuse the silent question.

_“I don’t think Ace would be comfortable with that, yoi. We can give him the room he used to have before he joined us officially. He’s used to it, and we can work on remodelling it if you’re agreeable.”_

Whitebeard had snorted before sending them both off with that ever-rumbling laughter of his.

“I didn’t mean to,” he mumbled as he hunched further.

Izo nodded along. His grin didn’t once falter. “I know. Don’t feel bad about it,” he said as he gave the teen a side-squeeze. “So, Marco wants you to look for them so you will have company if you decide to go to the island these few weeks. It’ll be a good experience. You’ll get to meet more of our siblings and there’ll be the celebration to look forward to together.”

Somehow, Ace’s instinctive thought slid back to the book sitting innocently in his room, waiting for his inevitable return. He shouldn’t want to read it anymore. It made him feel unpleasant things. But, despite his misgivings, a part of him wanted to know more…to confirm that it wasn’t true. That, even if it was, it surely wasn’t him.

Ace snapped out of it when Izo nudged at him.

“Are you alright?” the commander asked in concern. “It’s hard meeting people for the first time, but you’ll have to soon enough.”

The fire-user bit his lip. “I know. I just…I was kind of thinking of…staying on the ship.”

As he expected, there was a look of genuine surprise before Izo shifted to look more alert. “Why? Did something happen?”

“No, no. Nothing, I just…” Ace frowned. “I don’t know. I saw this book in town yesterday and the coffee lady let me borrow it while we’re here.” He averted his eyes, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I wanted to read it… But you’re right. Meeting new people is important and I should take this opportunity to-”

Izo put a finger to his lips. “That’s alright,” he soothed at what must have been the increasing concern growing in the younger pirate’s voice. “We are here to relax, and if that’s what you want, that’s fine. We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other.”

“But what about Marco..? He even gave me their names.”

“Marco was worried you’d be lonely. Just let them know if you won’t be coming with them, alright?”

Ace looked between the kimono-clad pirate and the names in his hand. He could still think about it, right? He found himself slowly nodding in agreement.

And once again, the teen was so focused on the subject that he missed the fond look thrown his way. If he had known better, he would have thought the commander was rethinking their earlier conversation- that he really was the youngest among them.

* * *

_“STOP IT!” Ace felt the words rip from his throat so suddenly he thought blood would spurt from his mouth. “STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!”_

_Thatch stopped in his tracks, his brown orbs blown wide in surprise. His hands shot up in an instinctive gesture of calmness. As if he was placating a small child. Or a wild creature._

_Ace backed up a few steps, his feet stumbling back until his back hit the closest wall. An instant sense of claustrophobia washed over him as the very air around him seemed to close in on him. His heart began race, his palms felt clammy, and sweat began to bead on his forehead. “Stop it,” he gasped. He gripped at his arms and- oh, he was trembling._

_To the commander’s credit, he had regained a semblance of calm within that second of the teen’s distraction. His shoulders went relaxed, his arms still spread in a gesture of peace, and there was this sharp but comforting look in his eyes._

_“Ace,” he said the fire-user’s name as if it had been dipped in honey, “it’s alright. I’m here with you. You’re not alone.”_

_What? What was he saying? Did he think Ace would care if he were here? Thatch kept repeating the same words with that odd, slow inflections anyway._

_“Stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it,” Ace kept repeating. Darkness inched into the edges of his vision and he tried to shake it away. Regret immediately filled him when he was struck with a bout of dizziness._

_His confusion deepened when Thatch was standing before him, when a moment ago he was standing far, far, far…_

_Thatch touched him on his shoulders, his fingers curling gently around him. “You’re alright,” he soothed. “I’m here. It’ll be okay. Just breathe. I won’t leave. Just keep breathing.”_

_Ace choked on a breath. Maybe it was his string of unfortunate fate, but the next thing he knew, his knees were failing and he was sliding to the floor. He would have crashed too, had the brunette not tightened his grip on him, guiding him to lean half on the wall and half on the man, gasping all the while like a caught fish in fishing net._

_“No no no,” he moaned into the chef’s white top. “Stop it. Stop…doing this, please, I ask it of you.”_

_Fingers brushed at his hair. “Just breathe,” the warm voice said again. It trickled over him like water. “Breathe, Ace. You will be fine.”_

_Ace tried to blink even as his vision swam. What was happening? What was going on with him? “Stop it,” he whispered. “Don’t. I don’t want to.” Something rubbed against his arm. The teen let out a soft whimper. “Stop making me feel…this way,” he pleaded because this couldn’t happen. This was never what he wanted. “I don’t want any of you,” he said between choked breaths._

_“Shh…it’s alright. Just breathe.”_

_Ace felt like crying. “Please.”_

* * *

It was the second week that the crew had docked at Kokorogawi Island.

All the commanders and the senior members of the crew had been put to work. Once Marco and the scouting team had deemed the labyrinth safe enough for their upcoming celebration, near everyone else began packing all the things they needed to feed a party of over a thousand pirates to last late into the night and into the early hours of the morning.

Ace wanted to be excited too. He wanted to join in the enthusiastic chatter and revel in being part of something so exclusive and yet so huge. He wanted to ask after all the traditions he’d soon be a part of, wanted to dig through the odd little decorations the crew actually took the time to make (which showed how big this celebration was; they never bothered with such things), wanted to explore the island, wanted to do so many things.

It was almost disconcerting how quickly one could change one’s mind.

Rather than jittery excitement that had him bouncing (that was how Rakuyo had described it) across the ship, he only felt a sense of nagging fear at the back of his mind.

Though he had told himself he wouldn’t read the book anymore, he couldn’t help it. That night after his conversation with Izo, he had determined to go to bed and forget about it. He loved being here. Why pay attention to something that threatened that?

But the moment he had walked through his doors, his eyes immediately drawn to the item, he found himself picking it up like bees to its queen. He had decided to return the book to Sora the next day, then the next, then the next…

Why was he doing this to himself?

These fears had manifested in nightmares that recalled his earlier days on the ship. Some were convoluted versions of his memories, but Ace didn’t think he could tell what was true and what was not anymore.

It didn’t help that his ‘odd’ behaviour was fast gaining attention. The commanders were hovering, and more members of the crew were asking after him. Even Whitebeard seemed to watch over him more, his amber eyes thick with concern.

_Or maybe to keep an eye on you_ , a voice whispered in his head. _Like a captor would-_

Ace dug his fingernails hard into his thighs. He was lucky enough he was sitting cross-legged on his bed. No one was there to catch the blood that seeped from beneath his grip. Because they would care, he told himself. They were genuine.

…right?

No matter how much he doubted his own feelings, it was impossible for an entire crew to draw up an entire hoax for the sake of one mere rookie captain. What odds were there that everyone was so fine an actor anyway? That _Marco_ and his never-ending lectures were an illusion of concern? That Thatch didn’t care if he starved? That Whitebeard wasn’t bothered if he lived or died?

_“You are my son now, my boy. I will protect you always. Never forget that.”_

A sense of hesitant determination settled within him as he recalled the strength of that voice as he was officially claimed, fixing that which had been unbalanced for days.

A breather, that was what he needed. He needed to get out of this room, out of this ship. He needed fresh air. With that thought firm in his mind, Ace got to his feet, grabbed his bag and, in an action he still couldn’t understand, shoved the book in. He’d return it to Sora, he decided. These headaches, nightmares, and uncertainties ended here.

As Ace made his way out, he still wasn’t used to how empty the ship had become. Most were on the island, few staying behind to guard the ship. He had been assured himself that the waters around here were too dangerous and risky for any small fry to approach them. And many would be close by to defend a potential attack.

Still, he found he didn’t like how his footsteps echoed through the corridors as if he walked along what could have been an abandoned ship. There was a keen absence of muted conversations, a common attribute to a ship with such a dense population. There was no flurry of footsteps as pirates rushed about their duties, no distant yells and shouts over something no one would remember, no… There was _nothing_. He could barely even feel the steady rocking of the ship, not when it was docked safely along the harbour and not buffeted by the powerful waves in the open New World ocean.

Ace held his bag close. He increased his pace, wanting to be out of the unnatural space that was now his home. Something about the silence always crept him out.

It was with a sigh of relief (only for the fresh air, he told himself) that he stepped off the deck to land on the planks leading up to the Moby Dick. He would return the book first. Get it over and done with.

“Hey, Ace!”

Ace turned to see two of the pirates he had bunked with, the ones Marco had highlighted to him waving at him from the shores that laid adjacent to the harbour. One of them – Hoshi, he thought – was beckoning him to come over, his grin welcoming and expectant.

The fire-user hesitated, not wanting to be drawn away from his self-given task, then acquiesced in mild resignation. “Hey,” he said as he ran up to them.

Hoshi nodded approvingly at his quick arrival. “You holding up well, eh? Commander Marco said you might be going into the island with us if you wanted, but we’ve heard little from you.”

Ace forced out a sheepish laugh. _Damn it!_ He forgot to tell them he wouldn’t be. “Sorry about that,” he apologised as he rubbed the back of his neck to ease the heat he knew was travelling up his face. “I got side-tracked. You didn’t wait for me, did you?”

Another pirate with blue streaks in his hair piped up: “Nah. We knew you wouldn’t be coming along if you’d be skipping breakfast!”

“Asaha! That’s rude,” Hoshi hissed. He glanced at the fire-user worriedly. “Sorry about that. He gets overly familiar with everyone.”

Ace started when he saw the genuine concern in his crew member’s eyes. Oh. He really was the worst. “No, no. I’m fine. I really don’t mind,” he tried. “I, uh, I was reading a book and I forgot about much else. It’s really on me.”

The two pirates lifted their eyebrows at the admission. They both exchanged a glance.

“A book?” Hoshi repeated.

Asaha suddenly grinned, looking a little too mischievous. “I can see why Commander Marco gets along so well with you.” He laughed. “He gets caught up with his work and his books, I tell ya. You fit right in.”

“Marco likes to read..?”

Again, the two pirates looked at him in surprise. It shouldn’t rankle him, but it did. He knew Marco hovered a lot over him since he was the youngest and, by extension, that somehow meant the commander felt the need to hold his hand. But that didn’t mean he knew _Marco_. The man and the others just stayed within a certain perimeter of him. Talked to him. About himself…

It was then that Ace realised that the crew rarely talked about themselves to him. When they did, they spoke of the many good attributes they had, or the milestones he should look forward to achieving with them. And they did it in a manner that was not overtly outlandish or self-praising either.

He remembered Thatch sharing his thoughts of the sixteenth commander when the latter was seen moving his division through swift, sharp orders. He had admitted to feeling a little intimidated at the display.

_“That’s Izo to you. He can be overbearingly obsessive over how things are done, and he has terribly high expectations of those around him. But he’s also one of the most thoughtful brothers we have on board. He’s quick to decide someone who’s in need of help, quick to drop everything to do what he feels is right. He doesn’t spare any effort either. Just be sure you don’t destroy his hard work, eh? One of the worst things about him is his world-famous ability to hold onto grudges.”_

Another memory nudged at him.

_“We celebrate our milestones because such celebrations highlight our triumphs. It reminds us of our strengths, our motivations, and that we are in it together. We are not the Revolutionary Army, yoi. We are here to live life to the fullest, and we have decided doing so is best achieved when we are together. It’s why we have these annual celebrations. It’s so we let go of our failures so we may look forward to a better tomorrow.”_

The increasingly familiar feeling of unease crept into him. The Whitebeards were an idealistic lot. And they only wanted to settle him into a crew as large as theirs. They probably thought he wasn’t ready for the hard truths, right?

“Um…can I ask you something?”

Hoshi and Asaha shook their earlier surprise away to nod at him encouragingly.

“Shoot!”

Ace licked his lips. “Before me…” he said slowly. “Was there anyone who rejected Whitebeard’s offer to join the crew?”

Hoshi, who looked to be in his thirties, now that Ace really looked, turned thoughtful. He hummed under his breath. “I…don’t quite remember. Asaha?” he asked as he turned to his friend. “You’ve been with the crew for eight years.”

The man in question shot him an unimpressed stare. “You’ve been with the crew for ten years,” he said flatly. He then shook himself when Ace threw him an expectant look. “We’ve had several siblings join us over the years- well, we had to, right? It’s not like hundreds of us joined at the same time.” He scratched at his chin. “I guess we had a few. I mean, we had one who wanted to travel the world instead of living a life of piracy. He caved within three days.”

“Oh? Who was it?”

Asaha jutted his finger in the direction of Hoshi. “There he is.”

“What?” Hoshi squawked. “I did?!”

“Don’t you remember? You were spouting about some dream about seeing the world. It’s not like pirates stay in one spot anyway. You’d travel the world with one of the safest crews!”

“I said _no_?! What was I-”

“You were out of your mind, that’s what.”

Ace felt his throat go dry as he watched the two friends bicker. Despite the seeming innocuous words, it hinted at something decidedly unpleasant- something he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to find out.

_We’ll live a life of no regrets!_

In a haze, the words came unbidden to his lips. “You gave up your dream?”

The two pirates paused just as Asaha was shielding his face from a mimed punch from Hoshi. The latter shrugged. “It wasn’t a big dream. Now that I remember it, I just wanted to see the world, explore, see what it had to offer, you know? Being in this crew is better. I don’t get to travel wherever I want, sure, but family’s important too, you know?”

_We’ll be free!_

Not even Ace had stayed with Luffy to realise his dream.

“You know what I mean, anyway, don’t you?” Hoshi said. “Why’d you ask anyway?”

“I-I was just curious, that’s all. Since I don’t know anyone yet.” A thought occurred to the fire-user. “And what of those who wants to join y- I mean, us?”

“Nah. You don’t ask to join us. You have to be invited. We have very few who asked to join and were accepted. Oyaji always put them through a really hard test, like holding on to our raised anchor for days, before letting them join us.”

“Really? Why?”

Asaha glanced at Hoshi, then shrugged. “We don’t just accept anyone. Not unless one of our siblings asked it of Oyaji.”

“And Oyaji is picky, despite how open he might look like,” Hoshi added. “He only invites those he wants, and he gets what he wants, you know?” There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and Ace could see at once why the man got along so well with the Asaha guy. “You know what I mean, don’t you? You joined us too, eh, despite your earlier…arrival.”

“Yeah…I did,” the teen said faintly. He did, didn’t he? He had given up his dream. All of sudden, the urge to puke hit him and it took all his willpower to force it down.

Hoshi’s face changed into concern. “Hey, you know I was kidding, right?”

Ace cracked a smile as he backed away. He could feel the uncomfortable churn rising in his throat. “I know,” he tried to assure them. “I just remembered I have something to do in town. See you guys. And thanks!”

With the rapid-fire words out his mouth, Ace turned and fled.

* * *

In the end, he had run like a coward to one of the few hills the island had to offer. He had had to climb some exposed tree roots as handholds to get to the top, his earlier anxieties fuelling him enough to send him scrambling to the top within a 20-second record. He was now seated against the roots of a giant oak tree.

He would have thought the unobstructed view over the village about a few miles to the west and the distant sea right upfront would have calmed his jittering nerves, but of course his perfect life couldn’t afford him that. Rather, he was a mess of scrambled emotions and fears and everything he could think of in his pulsing head.

Ace shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. He had made a choice, hadn’t he? He had expected to be doubtful every now and then (hell, he doubted his own existence), but he didn’t think it would come so quick and with such an intensity that it would rattle his the spine of his very conviction.

Maybe it was his string of fate. His life was a mistake. This was the world’s retribution on him for being alive.

This was his karma for choosing to live when the world had told him to die.

Or perhaps, this signalled the few good things in his life. He should have been drowned at birth, but if he must be loved, it would naturally be attached with _conditions_.

Like giving up his dream. Like being subtly manipulated into liking people. Like falling for the illusion of the perfect family.

Like none of it being real.

With his heart still in his throat, Ace snatched the book from his bag and began to flip through it with a speed that near tore the pages into half. His eyes scanned through the text, flicking left to right, before he stopped at one of the excerpts:

_“The unique symptom of Stockholm Syndrome is the unnatural feelings of care the victim feels towards the captor. This includes, and is not limited to, positive emotions in the form of compassion, sympathy, affection, protectiveness, empathy, and even love. Records show that some victims have even defended their captors when brought before the arm of justice. One particular incident that highlights the extent to which victims fight for their captors is exemplified in the Kidnapping of Ann R._

_Kidnapped for two years, she had refused to testify against her captor when she was freed by the marines. She had later taken her own life when her captor was executed for his crimes.”_

Ace’s eyes were drawn to the next few paragraphs.

_“Victims who suffer from this illness largely reject the possibility that their emotions are not real. Though some acknowledge the unnaturalness of such emotions, most insist that their captors are not beyond redemption._

_Experts in this field attempt to explain this. In their studies, they have identified that prolonged exposure to their captors had instilled in their victims a sense of familiarity. Victims are often kept isolated from the outside world and have little connection to anyone but their captor.”_

Ace could feel his lips tremble. It was easy to remember how suffocating and lonely it had been when he still refused to be initiated into the crew. How his insides felt pressed from lack of friendly conversation. How he felt unguarded and unsafe. How he suspected his world would collapse into darkness if he didn’t escape this imposed isolation.

_“In such times of distress, victims instinctively latch onto their captors as their only form of support. Many victims admit to having struggled at first, but such efforts had eventually ceased over time when they realise the futilities of such actions._

_Yet, experts draw attention to the intricate play on the victim’s subconscious that likely shaped the emergence of Stockholm Syndrome. Most kidnapping incidents are characterised by danger, hostility, threats to one’s continued wellbeing, and other similar negative connotations. But experts have identified from victims of Stockholm Syndrome that they are often treated with a semblance of kindness._

_Imagine being kidnapped. You are not chained. You are given room to roam about. You are fed and you are even given clean clothes to wear. It does not change the fact that you are still locked in a room and are not allowed the freedom to leave. But you do receive a degree of kindness in an environment that has robbed you of much else._

_Experts believe such incidents begin to nurture in victims a sense of gratitude towards the captors. They begin to shed their earlier misgivings and begin to forget the origin of their present situations. In fact, when victims begin to calm, some captors respond by providing more leeway, such as allowing them to roam the house or to even take walks about the park. In summary, they begin to view their captors as their only pillar of support._

_This, coupled with a human’s natural desire for social interactions, may have framed the victim’s perspective into viewing his/her situation in a more positive light. It may perhaps be the only way to cope.”_

With a shaky breath, Ace finally tore his eyes away from the cursed book. He closed it shut with a resounding snap, not caring in the least that he had to return it in good condition. It had brought him nothing but despair, after all.

He dragged his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs in a poor attempt at comfort. A slight breeze stirred the air around him, but Ace felt no peace at all. There was nowhere to hide but within his own arms.

There was no way about it, was there? That very excerpt he had read again and again over the past few days might as well have been a description of his own life. He had been kidnapped by Whitebeard. He had been forced to stay as he was constantly assured that he would join their family, no matter how long he’d railed against it. Not once was he chained down. They even gave him access to their weapons’ and training rooms.

He brought up the memory of how Izo would shove clean clothes into his arms. How Thatch would bring his food to his room. How Marco would coax him into conversation, even held him close when he broke down near the end.

They were kind to him in a way no one had ever been before. They tolerated his mercurial moods, his harsh tongue, and the untamed rage of emotions that coursed through him that so often manifested in short tempers and curt words.

They openly said they cared.

Something deep and painful tore inside him. It felt as if something had collapsed to leave behind a chasm of echoing disbelief and growing resignation.

Maybe, maybe he should have listened to the world when he had the chance.

Maybe he should have drowned himself first chance he got.

How was living like this any different?


	2. Singularly Focused

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Finally a new chapter for this fic. Oops. I may actually take longer for this than I had thought, unfortunately. I will be starting full-time employment soon, and with the whole situation over the pandemic, it seems I will soon have a lot less time than I had thought I would have to write. :(
> 
> So let's hope I can squeeze as much as I could within the next few days, eh?
> 
> Discussion at the bottom of page. Do read if you're interested.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.

_How large a ripple could one person make_ , Ace had once asked himself when he was young.

As he had lifted his eyes to gaze upon the wide and endless expanse of the seas at the edge of Dawn Island, that same question had reverberated through his childish mind. It brushed at his thoughts the same way a snake's poison would slip and taint the blood of its victim, insidious and slow.

 _What was one person in a world with so many other people?_ His mind would sing.

It would rise and fall in a melody that screeched at his ears, until it climbed and peaked with a crescendo that screamed and screamed. _Why was he alive?_

_Why?_

_Why?_

_Why?_

For all the questions, he found no real answers. He didn't find them when he lived with his brothers, nor did he in the nooks and crannies of the Grand Line. Paradise was only an empty title. And thus far, his life with the Whitebeard Pirates had recently been a dramatic headache.

But, surely, in a crew of over a thousand pirates, one person would not – could not – make much of a difference.

Ace believed in this. The veracity of this statement rang in his bones and he lived it as the unyielding truth that it was. It didn't matter how strangely he behaved for as long as he didn't stir up any more attention-grabbing situations. He was one person, after all. One insignificant new rookie to the crew. Why would he be a cause of concern?

It was in this steadfast belief that Ace went about his business on board the Moby Dick, his thoughts distant and his mind heavy. He trudged about his tasks with a disquieting air about him, and not once did he consider his odd behaviour _attention-grabbing_ or _concerning_ because he was just an additional face to the crew. He was new, yes, but new did not equate to something special. His heart had screamed at and resisted this understanding, but the teenager was no fool. The idea that their care and affection was built upon false premises hurt him deeply, but it was not as profoundly heart-wrenching as believing himself expendable. This was a truth he had known all his life. The commanders had taken an interest in him because he had been strong enough in the eyes of the World Government to have been offered the position of Shichibukai. Then, he was foolish enough to go after Whitebeard. It was a string of odd palpitations along a linear path of piracy. Now that he was one of them, their interest was bound to wane. When Portgas D. Ace was unpacked and examined closely, he was only just Ace, after all.

It was with that _another-thought-in-the-coffin_ truth too that Ace thought nothing of the increased attention he was gathering as the days went by. He dismissed their questions after his well-being with a wave of his hand as he helped clean the deck. He only nodded in absent-minded attention when he was elbow-deep in dishwater. His smiles were strained in refusal when he was asked to join in card games and pranks.

The fire-user didn't know what it was that plagued him in that week. If he had to describe it, he would recall a faint but unyielding block in his mind that separated him from everything around him. It was like standing on the edge of the precipice as he watched the world spin past him. A tiny part of him wanted to rush headlong into that beautiful mess, but there was an invisible immense force pinning him in place. Ropes he couldn't see wrapped around his arms, torso, and neck; held taut with a tension he didn't have the energy to break.

It was what Ace called his _off days_ , except this time, he somehow knew he was in it for the long haul.

Perhaps it was that cursed book or maybe it was seeing his rising hopes for…what was he hoping for? Maybe it was seeing his life with the Whitebeard Pirates crushed between the pages of a scholarly book that had him reeling in dismay. As he watched in his mind's eye the brilliant red that dripped off the edges of old parchment, streaking it as dull a brown as his own dull life.

So Ace didn't bring himself to care when the whispers turned into verbalised concern. He stayed in his cabin when he could. He would sit cross-legged on his bed, his arms on his lap, as he waited in silence for the _off day_ to switch back _on_. His throat would close up as he breathed, choked on stale air, and it was only then that it would occur to him to open the windows. When he did, he wished he had taken the time to get some fresh air. At some odd hours, the teen would meander about the island. Slip away from the crew so he could go on his own and without their insistent supervision. He would suck in the crisp morning air greedily. But as he revelled in the world around him, his mind would stray back to his room, to the comfort of the four walls, and then his feet would quietly bring him back, engulfed as he was in confused relief and ragged disappointment.

He was not, however, allowed to skip on meals.

" _If you don't turn up for even one more meal, Ace," Thatch had said as he towered over the teenager at the kitchen sink, "I will drag you there myself." The fire-user couldn't escape his gaze. Not without abandoning his dish-washing duties. While Ace was neither here nor there, he was always committed to fulfilling his obligations. The commander had taken full advantage of his. His dark eyes were narrowed in determination, and there was a stiffness in his jaw that made even the fire-user wary._

_When Ace met his eyes in confusion, the commander seemed to deflate, as if he was unable to keep up his stern posture any more than he had to. "I can't stand the idea of my family going hungry," Thatch said quietly. "It's best I tell you now while you're new to prevent any misunderstandings. I can't stand it. I hate it."_

_The man fell quiet and Ace realised he was waiting for a response. "Oh, alright," he said. Nodded. Agreed._

_The younger pirate missed the way the commander's eyes sharpened. A beat later and Thatch's ever-cheerful voice returned. "That's great! Glad we've come to an understanding!" A new pair of arms took residence next to the teen. "Since you've made me so happy, I'll help you out with the dishes, alright? I've some dinner left for you, so you'll have more time to get to it after this."_

But, despite his religious efforts to keep to his assigned tasks and remain out of everyone's way, it wasn't enough.

Marco and Thatch – the perfect brother duo – cornered him one late afternoon as he trotted in for his very late lunch. He would have eaten earlier, but he was too weary to have to deal with _people_. They were such a pain sometimes. He wondered if it was worth it.

The two commanders played their parts too well. Thatch settled himself across from the teen despite having so many other seating options presented by the largely empty mess hall while Marco diverted from the tables to grab some coffee. A part of Ace felt a slight chill go through him. They knew him enough that he would have excused himself to escape the first commander's intrusive stare. But Thatch? No. He would have stayed put awhile because the chef was highly capable in stabbing the sharp pain of guilt into his chest. By the time Marco returned with two steaming mugs of coffee and a glass of orange juice, it was too late to make a run for it.

How terrifying, his mind that was full of suspicion whispered. They were truly gifted in the art of impersonating brotherhood, or they truly believed this lie.

Another part shrieked: _It's not a lie!_

"Didn't you heat it up?" Thatch was asking, his eyes narrowed on Ace's still-full plate. "Lunch was hours ago."

Ace summoned what energy he had in his bones to affect a mock smile of derision. He stuffed another spoonful of sea king meat into his mouth while snapping his fingers with his other free hand. A burst of flames flickered into life.

The chef snorted. "Right. I forgot about that."

"Would it even matter if the food is cold, yoi?" Marco asked as he slid into place on the teenager's right. He pushed the drinks to their respective owners. "You don't get cold because of your Devil Fruit. Would you be able to feel when the food is cold?"

Ace paused. That was a good question. "I…I don't know," he said honestly. "I just heat it up as I go that it never occurred to me to try."

"As long as it tastes good."

The freckled pirate nodded in agreement. The food tasted like ash.

The conversation soon flowed to other matters of concern. He listened in quiet attentiveness as they discussed the sorts of supplies they needed to bring into the island to their capacity to clean up after themselves if they brought along too much sake. While they did this every year, it was unwise to be complacent and assume they would be left alone from external threats. It was already a huge gamble to leave one division behind to protect the ship, but it was the sixteenth division's turn to stay behind this time. They weren't primarily made for combat.

However, though the conversation went slow and easy, Ace kept his guard up. He wasn't sure what he was afraid of, but his nerves jittered as if he was playing a waiting game. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it finally came, he was still terribly unprepared.

"So what have you been up to, Ace?" Thatch asked as he turned from Marco to the youngest pirate. "We haven't seen you around."

Such an innocuous question. So casual and easy. As if they believed Ace to be so pathetically stupid he wouldn't see what they were doing.

Ace chewed at his food slowly as his gaze flicked between the two commanders. "I've been busy," he said lamely after he swallowed his food. 'You know. I have a lot of things to do."

The corners of Marco's eyes crinkled in that familiar look of concern. "I know most of us have been busy with the preparations, but doesn't mean you should overwork yourself, yoi. And your duties you've volunteered for are just for you to have a feel for the division you'd like to join in the long run. Don't take it so seriously."

Thatch snorted into his drink. "Says the guy who takes _everything_ seriously."

The blonde threw the chef an annoyed look. "Says the guy who can ban you from managing the kitchens for the preparations," he shot back.

Thatch's eyes grew wide in horror. "No!" he exclaimed. "You will not take that honour from me!"

"Then behave." With a casualness that could only be expected of the first commander, Marco turned right back to the youngest pirate with a sheepish look. "Sorry for your brother, yoi. He can be childish sometimes."

"Hey!"

"All the time," he corrected.

Ace couldn't help the reflexive smile that tugged at his lips. He'd always liked them the most. It would be a real pity if none of it were real. The teen ignored the brush of uneasiness and answered to the warm look in those kind cerulean eyes. "I feel very tired these days," he admitted. A good lie was grounded in truth. "I guess I'm not used to helping out on a ship this size and…my body clock had changed. It's difficult to change it to meet everybody else's."

"You've been sleeping a lot then?" Thatch ventured carefully.

Ace supposed that was alright to admit to, right? Or would he look too much like a child who needed naps? But why would their opinion on that matter, he wondered, if none of this was real? "Well…not a lot," he muttered under his breath. "I just…need to rest a bit more than usual."

"That means we're pushing you too hard," Marco said with an unhappy sigh. The man adopted a faraway look in his eyes as he contemplated ways to resolve the non-existent problem. "I don't give you any duties."

"He helps me with the dishes," Thatch volunteered when the blonde looked his way.

Ace watched in askance as the topic suddenly focused on managing his duties to ensure he had enough rest. The two were careful to engage him in their discussions, mindful as they always were to his wishes and desires. At certain points in the conversation, Marco would even push to the teen pieces of bread from his own plate when he saw Ace's supply running low. At some point his hand would sneak in to tear off some burnt pieces of toast before the teen could eat them, sometimes going so far as to slip them into his own mouth before the younger pirate could stop him. He ended one building protest with a wink.

It was a normal brotherly exchange. Full of warmth, playful mischievousness, and expertly disguised concern. It would have once made Ace's insides curl in abashed shyness, but today only filled him with the faint stirrings of nostalgia and longing. It was a real shame that affection could so easily be practised as a guise for deceit.

"How about a short break, yoi?" Marco was suggesting. His handsome features were contemplative, his fingers rubbing that slightly pointed chin that smoothed so well into that strong jaw. Ace always thought the man – the first division commander – looked absurdly out of this world. Breathtakingly powerful, relentlessly kind, unbearably wise. Reliable. Confident. The best that Ace could come up with with his limited vocabulary was: so out of his league. It was as if the position of 'Big Brother' was made for Marco the Phoenix.

Thatch's countenance stretched into an easy smile. His blackish-brown eyes regarded the freckled pirate with slight fondness. As if he knew any degree higher than that and the latter would balk. "How about it, little brother? A break after the celebrations and we could go have a little fun ourselves off-ship?" He was the playful yet grounded older brother. The one who lightened the very air with his easy-going presence. So unlike Ace, who blazed the soil beneath him asunder with rage and fire.

The two older pirates exchanged a look when all Ace did in response was to stare at them with a seriousness that bordered on worrying.

"I never said I would go on a break too," Marco finally said to break the silence.

"You'd be supervising us. It wouldn't be a break for you," Thatch said easily as he peered at the youngest pirate hard.

"Ace?"

Marco pressed a warm hand on his arm and Ace jolted out of his mulling thoughts, only to find two pairs of eyes fixed on him in concern. "Yes? I'm sorry. Did I miss something?"

The blonde had by now taken full advantage of this to angle his body towards Ace's. It was a posture that screamed of attentiveness and brotherly concern– _or the application of expert knowledge on how to strengthen the ties between people_. "Is something bothering you, Ace?" he asked. His voice was smooth and calm, kind and affectionate. How- _how_ was it possible for someone to emote so strongly through mere words?

"Nothing's bothering me."

"We hardly see you about the ship these days," he said. "We don't see you unless we go for late mealtimes or when you're on-duty, yoi." The corners of his lips quirked. "I worry when you go off the grid like that. Makes me wonder what sort of trouble my siblings are getting into when they don't pester me at all hours of the day."

It was meant to be a jest, but it wasn't funny. Not at all. It sounded excessively controlling. (Funny how it was endearing just a week back.) Ace suddenly felt cornered by their attention. "That's not true," he blurted out when the pressure became too strong.

"What?"

"It's not true," Ace repeated. "You have so many siblings. It's not possible that everyone comes to you every single day. That's impossible."

Marco lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He parted his lips in momentary speechlessness before recovering a second later. "Okay, alright. I was exaggerating. But I do worry, and you're one of the siblings that I spend a lot of time with."

Right. Couldn't argue with that logic. "Oh."

A beat of silence. "Ace?" Thatch tried again. "Are you in trouble?"

Not for the first time, as the teen looked between the two pirates he had come to care for, as he studied their expressions of (genuine?) concern, he felt the familiar tug of guilt pull at his heartstrings. They each played the role of slightly distressed brother to a T. It made him crave more. It made him want to tear his brain out too.

"I…" he trailed off. "I just…" At the two's encouraging smiles, his gaze dropped to the table, knowing one look at his face would give away the partial lie. "I feel overwhelmed, that's all. There are so many people. People who know me, but I don't know them. I don't know how to deal with it."

Marco nodded. When he saw there was nothing else forthcoming, he said, "You are uncertain about your place here, yoi. You are unfamiliar with so many things, yet you call us your own. It's contradictory and it's scary, but you also made the choice to choose this. It's a difficult situation to pick apart when you feel so many conflicting emotions."

Ace pulled a watery smile at the paraphrasing. It was near ironic how close the man had hit to home, despite not knowing anything at all. "I guess," he murmured as he shrugged.

"Thank you for sharing that with me." The Phoenix rubbed at his shoulder in circles. "I might know something that would cheer you up, yoi," Marco said after another pregnant pause.

"What is it?"

Marco glanced at Thatch, and it would only later occur to Ace that they must have planned for this outcome. The chef took over with a seamless grace. "We could bring you to the labyrinth tomorrow. It's safe with us there. We'll be bringing in some logs and other essential items for the celebration. We won't put you to work if you're worried." He offered the younger pirate a small smile. "Would you want to?"

Ace waited for the excitement to rush into him, but all he felt was the expanding blankness stretching across the world around him. He didn't even have it in him to feel surprised, though he recognised with vague alarm that something was truly not right with him. But that wasn't what they wanted to hear. They wanted him to be eager and excitable. And, no matter how he doubted his emotions, he couldn't deny that he wanted this crew happy.

"Really?" he asked as he tried hard to inject some enthusiasm into his words. "You won't mind?"

Thatch looked pleased. "So long as you don't run off on your own, eh?"

Ace grinned at the words. As he couldn't reach the chef in retaliation, he instead shoved the man on his right in indignation.

Marco looked thoroughly offended. "I didn't say that, yoi! What was that for!"

Ace snickered as the three fell back into easy conversation. But inside- inside, the teen felt his heart drop as a thought occurred to him.

If he did run off, would they let him go?

* * *

_He needed to escape. Right now. Immediately. Get off the ship. Run as far away as he could, throw on new attire, and change his name. Was that desperate? Maybe. But what he was sure of was the need to flee this whale ship before they could find him._

_Ace didn't know what had changed over the past two – three? – months. But he was beginning to change. He recognised this shift in his heart. It had happened with Luffy seven years ago. And with Sabo a little before that. And, heck, each time he had panicked so badly he thought his heart had burst and was choking his lungs with his monstrous blood._

_Never mind that he had never been as happy as he was with his brothers._

_The idea that anyone else could infuse the same warmth in him as Luffy and Sabo was laughable. It was crazy. It was_ unacceptable _._

_He had to leave before his heart pulled a stupid, like convincing him to stay. Like letting him look into Marco's understanding eyes or falling for Thatch's drool-worthy food or feeling so unbearably confused yet so mysteriously taken by Whitebeard's strength and easy smiles._

_He had to run before he could let himself care._

_It was in this harried state that Izo found him. He was flitting across his borrowed room for things to throw into his bag. This only showed how far gone he was. He hardly had anything to his name._

" _Are you alright?"_

_The abrupt question sent the fire-user scrambling back from the door with a scream lodged in his throat. Ace stared at the commander with wide eyes, his heart racing a mile a minute before he shook himself._

" _I quit. I won't try anymore. I'll stop everything," he started rambling as he snatched at his cowboy hat off the bed. "I quit, alright? Let me leave. I want to leave. I don't want to be here anymore. I'll stop everything. I'll apologise! To everyone! Just let me leave."_

_Izo's lips parted in apparent surprise, and already his eyebrows were furrowing into a frown. "Ace, you-"_

" _I quit, alright?!" Ace repeated, the desperation clear in his choked words. A thought came unbidden to his mind and he stepped back in horror. "You're not going to let me leave, are you? You're going to keep me here, no matter what I do. You're going to force me to join you." He felt his breathing quicken. "I'd have to die before I'd be free..? Oh, I can't I can't. I quit. I quit! I don't want this!"_

_Before he knew it, the kimono-clad pirate was gone and in his place were the other commanders crowding into his room. He spotted a flash of blonde hair and a pair of twin swords. Someone huge and bulky blocked out the light from the door, before suddenly moving away._

_Ace shook his head in rejection. The sense of being suffocated fell over him like a warm blanket under the summer sky. "I quit!" he howled, unable to take it anymore. "I don't want any of you!"_

_Something brushed at his shoulders, and suddenly the greying spots inching at the edges of his vision let loose, sending him tumbling into the dark._

* * *

Perhaps it was fate that finally sent down the final meteor that broke the whale's back. Or maybe Ace had always been that unlucky with the demonic blood running through his veins. Like the kid who was the special chosen one that was bullied throughout his young life in a village cut off from the world. Or the kid who always fell over his feet. Or the one with absolutely no talent. Except, for Ace, his lack of luck had resulted in his eventual birth, which then heralded the passing of his mother.

It therefore shouldn't have come as a surprise – at least, not to _him_ – that he couldn't enter the labyrinth at all.

The labyrinth was a maze of crystal-like ice stalactites and stalagmites. It ran across every inch of the cave's ceilings, while the ground was littered with upward icicles that threatened to pierce unsuspecting visitors through their unprotected feet. The cave was apparently nestled deep enough below the island and close enough to the sea that inches of ice and, miraculously, snow coloured the already breath-taking cave a glowing white. This was compounded by the faint glimmers of sunlight that filtered through the tiny, gaping holes in the seemingly sky-high canopy. It presented upon the pirates the magical illusion of sparkles dancing in the air, a refractory effect that completely dazzled one fire-user.

The beginnings of a light-heartedness that had begun to take root in Ace's sluggishly beating heart was thus crushed when his party caught sight of the growing puddle about his feet.

"We have to stop, yoi," Marco finally said, his gaze trailing over the melting ice and snow that lay thickest at Ace's person.

Ace's shoulders drooped in resignation. His control over his fire was still poor enough that bursts of heat still emanated from his being every now and then. They couldn't risk letting him in when he could single-handedly drown everyone in accident. And potentially destroy the place of their annual celebrations. Maybe he was wrong, he distractedly mused. Maybe one person really could affect a large ripple effect across the oceans. Except, he would have majored in screwing people's lives.

"Hey, don't be like that. We'll find a way to fix this," the blonde commander soothed. He brought his arm up to rub at his shoulder in an attempt to comfort the younger pirate, but all Ace felt was the sinking realisation that, once more, he was going to miss out on something important. _Fate, fate, fate..._

"Yeah, right," he muttered, kicking at the stupid water. "Guess I'll help guard the ship when you guys celebrate in a few days."

Marco shook his head. "I have an idea, alright? We'll get you in there with the rest of us. Just leave it to me." Behind him, the rest were nodding emphatically. The blonde turned to the chef and nodded his head at the rest of the party. "Lead them in first, won't you? Ace and I will return to the ship first, yoi."

Thatch cast the quiet teen a worried look. "Sure," he said cheerily. He patted the freckled pirate as they walked past, some calling out something encouraging to boost the visibly deflated pirate.

It soon turned out that the blonde's grand idea was a sea stone ring that would lock his fire power up until they reached the clearing for the celebrations. It would be temporary, the commander insisted, as if wearing sea stone for a Devil Fruit user was a mere accessory. As if the accompanying vulnerability and imposed exhaustion were nothing but fabled tales. Before he knew it, Ace was shoving past Marco for the door, the word 'No' on his lips, as his mind screamed at the sheer audacity of the suggestion.

"It's a ring, Ace. It's not handcuffs, yoi," Marco called after him. His voice had since grown low and quiet. Like a predator readying itself for the first signs of defence.

It was too bad Ace had never backed down from a challenge. Would never too. _Keep true to yourself_ , his mind whispered in approval. "I don't care. I'm not wearing it!"

Marco only looked unimpressed at the argument. "How will you join us for the celebration? We hold it every year."

"Did it occur to you that I'm capable of improving myself?" Ace pressed a palm against his chest to reinforce his words. "That, just maybe, I'd be in better control of my fire by this time next year? That I could walk in just fine without having to submit myself to _sea stone_?"

Instead of immediately retaliating with a scathing reply, the blonde's lips thinned in controlled displeasure. He regarded Ace for the longest moment, as if contemplating the best way to get the younger pirate to understand him. As if pondering upon the best way to shape Ace in his shadow.

Ace felt his hackles rise at the thought. Mayhap it wouldn't have turned out so bad if he weren't already suffocating in self-doubt and insecurity. In a different world, he might have taken the suggestion more flippantly. Might have slipped on the ring to see how it would look on his person. But that world was not his. His was riddled with bad luck.

"Don't look at me like that," he hissed. " _Don't look at me like that_." He sucked in a shaky breath when Marco turned wary. "Don't look at me like I'm something to fix. I won't change for you– for anyone! I may be lacking, but you don't get to force me to change for you!"

The Phoenix's countenance shifted from confusion to shock before it blanked, a clear sign as any that the man was working to rein in a rise in his temper. Ace had never seen it personally himself, but he'd heard the whispers from the crew. Marco's anger was like a rise in the waters– a displacement of the sea that no one notices until the waves surge over them, quiet and intent for the kill. Ace faced that same anger now. He suddenly felt small and anxious at the idea of being washed away. Thrown away.

Marco's jaw locked. "I understand," he said, "that my method of suggestion would make you uncomfortable, yoi. Being tied to sea stone drains you. It exhausts you, and you'd feel even more vulnerable than you already were without your powers. I don't want you to go through that pain. I don't _enjoy_ you or anyone of my family going through that." He paused and narrowed his eyes, as if waiting for the teen to truly listen to the truth of his words. "I suggested this as a temporary solution. We would bring you to the clearing. We would remove it, and then you'd have to wear it again when we leave. The family will be you the entire way."

Ace took a halting step back when the blonde suddenly stalked forward. His height ( _why_ was he so short?!) towered over the teen, casting him in shadow as hard cerulean eyes pressed down on him. The Phoenix only stopped a step away, but the younger pirate could smell the faint scent of mint and cinnamon peppering his senses. His neck craned to look the man in the eye.

"Or is it something else entirely, yoi?" Marco asked quietly. "Perhaps your anger stems from a lack of trust. Did you think us incapable of protecting you? Or…did you think we would turn on you the moment the ring is on your finger?" His voice turned as cold and harsh as the winters on Mt. Colubo when Ace paled. "What did you imagine, Ace? That we would cuff you and hurt you when your fire is locked away? Did you imagine us knocking you out when you weren't looking? Tie you down with more sea stone as you struggled beneath our hands, yoi? Maybe put you up as a sacrifice, as a symbol of our power, during the anniversary? For everyone to see and everyone to brand?"

The descriptions, uttered so nonchalantly (so _painfully_ ), sent Ace reeling. His mind's eye worked in overdrive as he vividly pictured the brutal images in his head. He saw the way he would succumb to their careful deconstruction of his sense of self, how they would destroy the entire foundations of his self-worth with one simple betrayal.

Marco must have seen the horror in his eyes too for the blonde's mouth shut with an audible click. A look of sick disgust crossed his face. "You are afraid of me," he said after a succession of three deep and even breaths. "Four months of building a sense of brotherhood between us, and this is all it takes to break it." He stepped away. "Looks like I hit the bull's eye, yoi. You really don't trust us."

Ace recoiled at the sharp accusation in those words. "T-that's not fair!"

"Is _it_?" Marco shot back. "What sort of person did you think I am, Ace? You think so little of me you would believe I'd hurt you at the drop of an anchor. _You'd_ turn on me out of sheer distrust." He tossed the ring in his hand to his table, where it landed on the desk with a sharp clink, only to roll and fall to the floor. Neither pirate looked to see where it ended up. "Why did you even choose to join us? If you can't even bring yourself to trust that we are here _with_ you, yoi?"

"Trust you? I've known you only a few months. I barely know any of you!"

"Then _get to know us_!"

"I need time!"

"Time?" Marco repeated almost incredulously. "You mean time to ignore all of our attempts to get to know you? Time to avoid us whenever possible? I _see_ you, Ace. I see you and I see that you're struggling, but you can't even bring yourself to even trust the one person you've been with the most on this crew. How could you even begin to trust everyone else?"

Ace tugged furiously at his hair at the back of his neck, for once feeling a rise in emotion that he had not had in days. "You wanted me to – oh I'm sorry, _suggested_ – that I use sea stone, I didn't want to, and now you're mad at me. I'm sorry if that doesn't exactly inspire trust that I'm safe here when you'd rather force me to submit than respect my damned decision!"

It occurred to the freckled teen that he had never seen a look of incredulity warring with fury shot his way from the usually impeccable man. That shift in expression was all it took for Ace to re-calibrate his understanding of the commander. The stiff way he held his shoulders, the clench in his tightly closed fists, as if preventing himself from throwing a punch or two at the source of his frustrations. The very worst was the flickering disappointment in those steely blue eyes. In that moment, Ace felt as if a vast expanse of distance separated them from each other. As if steel pillars sprouted between them to lock Ace forever away from the once kind and indulging disposition that Marco tended to take with him.

"You don't want the ring, yoi. That's fine," Marco said flatly. "I would have respected that if that were all it was. I hear you loud and clear, Ace. You don't trust us the slightest bit. It's one thing to not trust us with your secrets, but it's another entirely when you believe we'd intentionally hurt you in your moments of vulnerability."

Ace swallowed. "That's not what I said," he protested weakly. He reached up to touch the man on his arm, the way he had taken to doing when upset, but froze halfway when those same hard eyes flickered to his hand. He let it drop with a gulp. "Marco…"

"This isn't going to work if you think we'd jump you whenever convenient, yoi."

"I…I just…I just need time," Ace said weakly. "It takes time, Marco."

For the longest moment, neither pirate said anything. The Phoenix kept his gaze on the teen, his eyes guarded and assessing, as if he were trying to look through the younger pirate's very soul.

"I know we fuss over you because you are our youngest, yoi," Marco finally said after another few more minutes ticked by. "We indulge you. We hover. We can be overbearing even. We do it not because you need it, but because we can, and we want to. But that–" his voice turned hard again – "doesn't mean we are looking to babysit. I didn't think you were the kind to make flip-flop decisions, Ace, much less one as big as joining a new crew. If joining us was a mistake, then grow up and decide. Don't take it out on us just because you don't know what you want, yoi."

Ace sucked in a deep breath. He felt his throat dry when Marco shot him a look of mild disdain before telling him in no uncertain terms to leave his cabin. He did so in silence, not quite registering the clenching ache in his heart, nor understanding why he felt so torn by the man's cold stance. The feelings only amplified when the door slammed shut behind him.

…

Stockholm syndrome.

Even if he didn't have it, it was frighteningly easy to connect the captor's characteristics to the crew's. Captors often threaten to remove their offered mercies in incidents of disobedience, after all.

And Marco's kindness had long been the merciful balm to his wretched heart.

* * *

Ace would have been unappreciative a few weeks back had he had to do night watch alone, but that night, he was grateful. His head was too heavy with milling thoughts, like a congested sea harbour that had too many ships going in and leaving port. A night alone would do him good.

If it weren't for his Devil Fruit powers, the teenager would have frozen to his bones by the time he clambered onto the crow's nest. He readily ignored the thick blankets set out for those on duty and instead rested his back against the wooden pillar that supported the lookout post. Few pirates were out on deck, what's with the heavy preparation for the much-awaited anniversary in a few days.

Ace watched as his breaths swirled into a mist of pale white smoke. Part of him wished to embrace the cold and he even imagined seeing that white steel ring adorning one of his fingers, when he had to shake himself from going down that road. Winter and snow were beautiful, but deadly, he reminded himself. The nights at Mt. Colubo and the Grey Terminal said it all.

Despite his best efforts, Marco's words skated through his head, the heels of its metaphorical steel blades digging into his mind with the incessant timed _skrrr skrrr skrrr._ So maybe they were manipulating his emotions. It didn't make that knowledge any easier to bear when someone so kind to him had turned on him with such contempt. Though it wasn't as terrible as he'd feared, he supposed. In his nightmares, that contempt manifested into blows and almost always ended with a daggered heart. The end that the son of the late Pirate King rightfully deserved.

Ace rubbed at his eyes as he stretched his feet across the little expanse of space. He eyed the bottle of sake he had swiped from the kitchens with quiet consideration before sighing. What the hell. Without another thought, he flicked off the cap and took a long swig. He winced at the burn as the alcohol ran down his throat.

" _Take to the seas, take to the skies, take to the world and let yourself fly…_ " he sang softly under his breath. It was an old song he had heard the bandits back home sing as Dadan shouted out orders at them. They would sing, off-tune and in untimed beats, until his primary caretaker had grown sick of the 'noise' and would beat them over their heads to 'shut their trap'. Ace remembered their happiness as they sang and their disappointment when they had to stop, but he'd always thought the tune had something distinctly mournful about it. Like a yearning for something more for life to give. Like a waiting game that had no players and no end.

_Look at you. Singing on your own with sake in your hands. Whatever happened to you?_

Ace didn't even blink at the sudden high-pitched voice that rang through his head. Instead, his lips stretched into a small smile. Hearing that familiar unimpressed voice always made him feel like home.

"So…" he dragged the word out unnecessarily, already feeling the sharpness of his mind blurring away. "What do you think? Am I crazy?" He barked out a laugh. "You already think I'm crazy, what the hell."

A soft sigh whispered at his ears. _For all the stupid in your head, at least you know that._

"That's mean, Sabo! You're supposed to make me feel better!" Ace complained. He pulled his hat off his head and rest it against his lap. The blue smiley and sad faces stared at him.

_I can't do that. You have to do it by yourself._

"Of course I have to," the teen retorted. "You went and died. What the hell _can_ you do?"

_Probably not read a book and then doubt my entire existence, that's one thing. Why do you do this to yourself, Ace? I thought you knew what you wanted._

Ace's chest wanted to burst into laughter again. Such a funny thing to say. "I thought I wanted to be Pirate King. I thought I wanted to prove to myself that I'm bigger than that guy ever was. I thought I was strong enough. That changed. And, now? I thought I found people I could be with for the rest of my life, who shared…who I could share my life with. And maybe I was wrong." Ace rubbed the rounded edge of the sad face. It looked really, really sad, he thought. Maybe it wanted some sake too?

 _Because the book told you that_ , imaginary Sabo said flatly.

"It's an _academic_ book, Sabo!" the fire-user defended as he took another swig. "I wasn't reading some fiction book about dinosaurs or something."

 _I won't say there's no validity to its research, but it was also explicitly argued to be a theory. There's no hard evidence that it's real._ A pause. _Though I'm not surprised. Out of all of us, you've always had that nasty habit of overthinking. It's sure to leave you confused one of these days._

"I'm confused because it's confusing!"

_Remember when Luffy didn't hug you one morning and he always does, and you thought he didn't care if you lived or died anymore? When, really, you were the one who shoved him off because he was a 'bother'. He just didn't want you to be annoyed with him. You, on the other hand, spent two entire weeks sulking without bothering to even speak with Luffy to clear the air._

A light flush that had nothing to do with alcohol bloomed on Ace's cheeks. "He was embarrassing me," he muttered under his breath. "I was a kid. What did I know?"

_And Marco? He wasn't embarrassing you._

Right. Even an imaginary Sabo was still true enough to his character to have the nerve to bring that up. "Why the hell are you bringing him up…" he muttered.

_He's important to you._

"So is everyone else."

_You've always been terrible at lying, but this is just sad, Ace._

Ace pressed his lips together in answer. So Marco was more important to him than everyone else, but it was only natural, wasn't it? Building ties with others weren't easy. The blonde had just…always been there for him. With his big-brother-smile and big-brother-concern. Like a dream that was meant for anyone else but himself.

"He's always been good to me, Sabo. He makes me feel like my existence is important. Not like–" Ace sniffed hard at the sudden thickness in his throat– "I'm a burden or something."

There was another sigh. _You want them to care for you. There's no shame in wanting to be loved._

"But what if it's not real, Sabo?" he asked in a small voice. "What if it's all fake? What if we wake up one day, and they decide they've acted enough to keep me here? What if they pull it all away?" Ace clutched at his cowboy hat tightly. In his chest coiled all his fears that had slowly curled inside him over the past weeks, gathering, hardening, turning to stone.

_Oh, Ace… Don't cry. Please don't cry._

Ace blinked hard but it was to no avail. The tears that had filmed his eyes dripped to his cheeks, some turning to mist when it touched the heat of his skin. "I don't want to live like that, Sabo," he whispered. "With them, for once, I wanted to be happy."

_Ace… Marco meant his words, Ace, but I don't think that means he hates you. I didn't like a lot of things you did. Like the way you'd yell at us when you were afraid. Or the way you walked away when Luffy cried for you. Or how you left me to Garp last time he visited us. I couldn't walk for weeks._

"I'm horrible, I get it. What's your stupid point?" the teen snapped.

_It didn't mean I didn't love you, you moron. You shouldn't be so quick to assume that everyone thinks the worst of you. They accepted you when you were hellbent on their Captain's head. And they've done nothing to prove you wrong. Why do you feel the need to doubt their sincerity?_

Ace shifted slightly, not wanting to answer.

_Ignoring the question doesn't help you, you stubborn idiot._

The fire-user exhaled. For all that Sabo was a figment of his imagination, he knew his memories wouldn't be betrayed by a changed brother who suddenly wouldn't harp on his every mood. He chucked down a few more gulps of sake. "Please. If you were here, you'd drag me off the ship even if I wanted to stay." His right hand lifted to rub at his tattoo. "You'd accuse them of brainwashing me or something. You'd tell me it wasn't real."

 _You bet I would have_ , the voice agreed indignantly. _I can understand why they'd want you, but no brother of_ mine _should be pressured into joining a crew, much less someone else's family. I would have let them sink without regret._

"See?" Ace pointed out. "Even you feel the same way."

Sabo didn't answer him for a moment. _I don't care how kind they are to you, Ace. That doesn't erase what they did to you. But –_ there was an indistinguishable noise that sounded a lot like frustration _– that doesn't mean I'd stop you from returning if you decided you wanted to come back._

"…really?"

_You're in charge of your own happiness. I would never stand in the way of that._

"So noble," Ace whispered. And it truly was. While Luffy was the most selfish person he had ever known, Sabo had been the most possessive. Obsessively, even. "So you'd let me go to them without another thought?"

A snort. _In your dreams, moron. I'm not going to risk Whitebeard's wrath only for you to turn around to return to him. I'd keep you away for a few months to sort your stupid emotions out._

Ace felt himself go still. "What would that accomplish?"

_Didn't you read the book? Not all victims of Stockholm Syndrome suffer its effects forever. Some do, but some grow out of them and realise that their feelings were borne out of distressful circumstances. They understand how their feelings were nurtured into care for the captors. Pull them away for a long enough time and these feelings sometimes fade. Of course, some can't shake off caring for someone no matter how time passes or how much distance is put between them. Like how I'll always love you and you'll never let me go._

"So…if I leave, my feelings will disappear?" the teen said slowly. He imagined leaving the Moby Dick, perhaps for forever, leaving everyone and everything behind. How was it that a mere few months in his life could leave such an indent in himself? Just thinking it made him feel ill.

_Maybe? Or maybe you'll find out if your feelings were real in the first place. It's all conjecture, Ace. Stockholm Syndrome isn't even registered as a real mental health problem. Nobody really knows everything._

"Why don't I just burn that cursed book and be done with it?"

 _Because that book really cursed you,_ the voice was flat and utterly sarcastic. Ace always knew Sabo would have made fast friends with Marco. _What do you have to lose?_

He'd lose precious time with the Whitebeards. But…

 _Ace._ The cherished voice turned serious. _You've lived in doubt your entire life. Do you really want another? You're looking for signs that it's not real even now._

…

_You promised to live without regrets._

Oh. That was right. For the three of them, that's what it all came down to, in the end.

If Sabo were real and in front of him, Ace would have launched himself at him to hug him tight. Though he would have anyway if Sabo had done the nice thing and just remained alive, but life was miserably unjust that way.

And as if the imaginary Sabo knew his job was done, that beloved voice that made him long for home faded into silence, leaving only the low whistles of a light breeze tugging through his untamed hair. Ace peered at the blanket of night sky above him. Nestled within them were the tiny, blinking lights that guided sailors home.

A familiar ache pulsed through his chest.

He whispered, "No regrets."

* * *

The rest of the week passed in a haze.

A considerable part of Ace desired more time alone– desired that odd familiar comfort of four walls, a measure of darkness, coupled with warm blankets and a bed. But armed with the keen knowledge that these may be the last times he spent with the crew, he found himself mingling more often with them. He pushed aside his discomfort and doubt and allowed himself to indulge in the careful attention thrown his way. Even if it weren't real, it wouldn't matter in a week.

It was with this thought firmly rooted in his mind that he also began to reach out towards the commanders. He was more familiar with them, and the thought of losing them sent an ache pulsing through his heart. (Though, with all his feelings, it was a wonder his heart was still beating.)

Sometimes his resolve grew weak. When he watched his crew mates play card games, the strength of the crew behind him, he wondered how life would be like without their cheers and rambunctious laughter. He had grown so accustomed to it despite the short months that he would spend in that moment focusing on the pitch and frequency of each individual laugher, trying hard to commit it to memory. As if his concentration alone could help him absorb the very environment into his soul. It was even harder when he had their meals with them. A simple affair, but one that revolved around easy conversation and daily catch-ups– all centred around his favourite three times of the day. And at night, when he was alone, Ace would sit upright on his bed, head cocked, as his eyes trailed over the small cabin he had made his own– from his cowboy hat flung over the dresser table, to the slight stain on the far right wall after a tussle with Thatch over napkins, to the blankets Izo had one day shoved into his arms when it was discovered he slept without the comfort of one, to everything he could set his eyes onto.

Ace would breathe in the air about him, focus on each of his senses sharply, and try his absolute best to _remember_. Because one day, all of this might not be his anymore.

It was at times like this that he would wonder if it was worth risking his place amongst them by leaving, even if on a temporary basis. It had become startling clear to him that he did care for them. The Whitebeard Pirates brought out in him a certain vulnerability that he couldn't deny. They made him long for their attention. It made him feel good. Even if his feelings were…nurtured into this, it didn't make his affection for them any less genuine. It sure as heck didn't make it easier to bear.

_You've lived in doubt your entire life. Do you really want another?_

No, he didn't. Sabo was right, imaginary as he was. Ace would be happy here, he would think. But that self-doubt and doubt in the crew could never be swept under the table. There would be times during which his insecurity would flare up like a beacon in marine-infested waters. He would become frustrated with himself, he would withdraw, and then the same old dance would repeat. He – and the Whitebeards – deserve better than that. And like Marco had said, they wanted a brother, not a child to look after.

He needed to do this.

While the Whitebeards prepared for their annual celebration, Ace prepared to leave. He contemplated on his options. He couldn't just jump ship. He wouldn't be welcomed back, no matter that his back was emblazoned with the captain's mark. He'd have to tell Whitebeard, but what could he say? 'Hi, sorry, but I've got to leave cause you're making me feel loved and I don't trust that'? He would normally ask Marco for guidance, but the man had been keeping his distance since their fallout, his disposition neither hostile nor welcoming. Not that he thought Marco would take the topic lightly. It did soothe a tiny part of his heart, though, when he not for the first time caught the man looking over at him, silently contemplative. This implied concern was the only reason Ace eventually found the strength to totter towards Whitebeard on the eve of their celebrations.

"Hi…" Ace trailed off as he peered at the massive form of his captain. Despite his three months as a crew member, the teen still felt a sense of awe and wariness whenever he laid eyes on the giant man. It always struck him just how feared this man was, how much of a legacy he represented to the world of piracy. Somehow, that same man had bestowed upon him the title of 'son'. Like Marco, Thatch, and everyone else, a man of Whitebeard's calibre was terribly out of his league.

Whitebeard's immediate response was to smile warmly at Ace, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight at his son's approach. He leaned over the side of his chair to look at the teen properly. "Ace, my boy. You haven't spoken to me in weeks," he commented. "I've missed telling you stories."

Ace couldn't help the flush in his cheeks. "I didn't want to bother you," he muttered. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Can I-can I talk to you for a bit?" he asked quickly before the man could pounce on his earlier comment. Whitebeard never missed a chance to recollect his earlier days as a young pirate to all who would hear it. Ace might be the only pirate on the ship who loved to hear all of them on repeat.

The Yonko regarded the freckled pirate for a brief second before he nodded. "Come, my boy," he said as he stood up. "It looks like you have something you'd rather share in private."

Ace trotted after the man into the Captain's room. It was as huge and cosy as it had been since he was last in here. With a flick of his hand, the fireplace roared to life, casting over the occupants a light, brownish glow. Whitebeard nodded at him thanks. He then gestured at the purple armchair next to his bed, the one Marco tended to favour despite his repeated attempts to deny it.

"Now, what is it you have to tell me, my son?" Whitebeard asked as he settled himself on his bed.

 _Son…_ Would this be the last time he was called that? Ace tucked his hair behind his ears. He had thought this through. He needed this more than he wanted it and had readied a speech even to argue this case. But, under the weight of the Yonko's gaze, he found that no more than a choked breath could pass his lips.

Whitebeard must have sensed his hesitation. "There is no need to be afraid, my boy."

Ace huffed. "Don't I?" he said to himself.

"No," Whitebeard said firmly. "Trust in your decision to come to me. Trust in your faith that I will do you right."

The fire-user sucked in a shaky breath. He leaned on the strength in that voice and its words, for once ignoring the nagging thought that it was all a product of deception. Summoning what courage he had inside him, he began to speak.

The words began in stutters, but soon he was weaving his thoughts and feelings into something comprehensible. The minutes ticked by and not once did he lose his Captain's attention. The man's amber eyes were fixed on him and him alone. It made him feel relief and afraid all at once.

By the end, as if like a black shadow, Ace pursed his lips shut at the dawning realisation of what he had done. The man would let him go, force him to stay…or strike his head off his shoulders for daring to voice his desire to leave. Though he'd likely lose the fight if it came down to the third option, at least he'd know he had made the right choice. He'd be dead before that sting of betrayal could sink in anyway.

Whitebeard regarded him in silence. He looked neither angry nor judgemental, but who was Ace to know the sort of thoughts a man like the Yonko had? Ace only wrung his hands, almost trembling, as he waited for the inevitable judgement from the Yonko.

"This is something you feel you need?" he finally said.

The teen flinched at the sudden booming voice. "U-um, yes, sir."

A look of sadness crossed his captain's face. The man patted the younger pirate's chin with his fingers. "Look at me, my boy." When Ace raised his head to meet his eyes, Whitebeard continued. "There he is," he rumbled. "I am your Captain and your father, Ace. That you call me 'sir' implies I have not done my duty well enough." He leaned forward to study his youngest son carefully. "I don't pretend I understand your troubles. But, if you feel this is something you need, I will let you go. _Only_ –" he held up a finger– "if you promise to return to us once more, no matter how far in the future, even if it is to tell us we would be parting ways indefinitely."

"That's…it?" Ace said slowly, somewhat stunned. "You'll just let me go?"

The Yonko's smile was sombre. "It is what you wish. Though your old man would appreciate a call every now and then. Just to know that you're alright."

The teen nodded. "I…I can do that."

"That's my boy."

Though Ace could barely believe it ( _is it really Stockholm Syndrom if he was allowed to leave?_ ), the conversation turned to discuss his future plans and his impending departure.

"The seas here are rough, Ace. If you leave tomorrow, you would be on your own in the New World waters. No." The Yonko shook his head with a frown. "I cannot allow that."

"Then I'll stay on the island. Marco said they have citizen ships moving in and out this harbour within the week. I'll head out from there."

"My mark will not protect you. Since you wish to be unaffiliated with any crew while you sort yourself out. Do you understand what that means? This is not like before. You will be alone."

Ace hesitated. "I'll keep myself out of the papers," he offered. "I'll return to Paradise if that makes you feel better."

"We would be too far away if you needed assistance. What if you were to bring your former crew with you? My heart would rest easy if you were not alone."

His old crew? Deuce and… Ace didn't deny the idea brought him a sense of relief, that he didn't have to be as alone as he could be, but…no. He had brought them to the New World and then forced them to stand by as he dealt with his earlier issues with Whitebeard. They deserved better than to have their lives uprooted once more for his sake. He also doubted they would want to. He voiced his thoughts aloud.

Whitebeard sighed, looking inexplicably proud yet exasperated all the same. "All right then. This is my final proposal, young man. You're not giving me many options. I respect your need to get away, but not at the expense of your life. Are we clear?"

Ace nodded meekly at the stern words.

"Good. You may leave tomorrow during the celebrations if it is your desire. Stay on the island until you can find a safe way off and then leave the New World as soon as you can. The further you are from these accursed waters, the easier I would sleep. Stop by our protected islands at all costs and give us a call each time you reach an island, and once before you leave it. Do this until you reach the first island of Paradise. And, Ace," Whitebeard stressed, "no matter your feelings, please let us know if you are in need of help. We will be there."

As the older man spoke, Ace felt the same old warmth bloom inside him. Maybe, at the end of this journey of self-discovery, he would return and stay. There was always hope he was making a big deal out of nothing.

"I promise, Oyaji." At the Yonko's look of surprised, he shrugged, pretending his face hadn't reddened like a tomato. "At least just once…I wanted to call you that." He looked away. "Just in case."

A snort. "You can call me that anytime, you brat."

* * *

Before the crew could leave for the island the next night, Ace drew on the reserves of his strength to bid them goodbye. He watched, quiet and strained, as all but the sixteenth division moved towards the island, their backs turned towards him. Under the glare of the emerging moonlight, the Whitebeard Pirates looked dangerous and yet so silly with their uproarious laughter and the occasional calls to quiet down.

Ace was even pleasantly surprised that many of them balked to wait for him when he made no move to follow. Pirates he had never spoken to stopped to wait for him and some even attempted to push him along. It was only Whitebeard's grace that they left him alone without much fuss as he shoo-ed them away. The man's amber eyes looked kindly upon him, tinged as it was with regret and something else Ace couldn't identify, before he too clambered down the ascension bridge to join the others.

Ace couldn't, however, refuse himself from sneaking into the crowd to throw his arms around a surprised Thatch. He held onto the man tight, his eyes clenched shut as he breathed in the strong scent of spices and sea salt, only letting go when he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him in turn.

"What did I do to deserve this grand honour, eh?" Thatch asked as he laughed.

Ace smiled brightly at him. "Have fun at the celebration, okay? Partly for me too."

The chef rubbed at his hair playfully. "Come with us," he urged. "We'll take care of you."

Ace wondered how much Thatch knew, but there was no judgement or anger in his eyes. Only that calm acceptance that stood still and proud amidst the roughest seas. It was so easy, he distantly thought, to dismiss the fourth commander by virtue of his easy-going personality. But truly the man was a force to be reckoned with.

"I can take care of myself, thank you," he retorted. He had done so all his life. Why didn't he want to now?

"Aren't you one stubborn little brother," Thatch said as he shook his head, digging his fingers in to drag against the younger pirate's scalp lightly.

The teen pulled back and shoved at the hands in his hair, laughing as he did before he scampered away. He could feel as he did Marco's gaze on him. The man hadn't been too far, after all. Like everyone else, Ace had learnt, the commanders were just as human. They strayed to those they were closer to the same way Marco was often always near the fourth commander. The same way Ace always preferred being near him.

Ace felt the nagging urge to turn and do the same to Marco too. Hold him tight because, the next time they met, they might not be brothers anymore. But the blonde man had said he wanted a younger brother to fuss over, not a child to look after. So Ace wouldn't draw near despite the clench in his chest. Someone of Marco's calibre deserved the best and now that Ace knew what 'best' meant, he couldn't force the man to accept the version of a brother he didn't want in the first place.

Once the freckled pirate had somewhat settled the incessant urges to say goodbye in the only way he could without giving himself away, he returned to the top of the ascension bridge, against the Moby Dick's railings, and watched the Whitebeard Pirates leave him behind. It took a minute – maybe even five – before he could gather his breath once they were out of sight to run to his room. He picked up his packed bag and slowly dragged himself by his feet out. Relished in the moments of walking through the Moby Dick as his home. Trying for the last time to suck in the air of companionship, of trust (however twisted), and affection.

When he hit the deck once more, the air felt frigid and cold against his skin. So unlike the warmth from mere moments before.

_No regrets._

"No regrets," he whispered as he jumped off the large vessel to land on his feet.

Ace turned back only once to give the ship a once over. Then, without a backward glance, he slipped into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is all for the second chapter. Is it too confusing? I'm not very certain.
> 
> Minor thoughts on this chapter:
> 
> This chapter reflects Ace's own narrative of his thoughts and feelings. He's in a bad place of confusion and is highly prone to the indecisive fickleness that are typical of teenagers. One moment he's suspecting everything they do as a symptom of Stockholm Syndrome, and the next he's fixating on how out of their league he is as both a brother and pirate.
> 
> Besides being an unreliable narrator, this chapter also seeks to show how singularly focused he is on Marco and Thatch. They are the brothers who had welcomed him on board and he's drawn to them especially because of this imposed familiarity as well as their ability to connect well with each other. Personally, I feel they get along so well because Ace is an older brother himself. Ace can understand to an extent the sheer responsibility an older brother has, and so he may be in a better position to empathise with the two commanders whenever they enforce the rules (Marco in his typical strict manner and Thatch in his easy-going, but immovable way). It might perhaps be the same way Ace manages Luffy, a mix between harshness (because Luffy is, let's admit it, impossible to take care of if you don't impose hard boundaries on him) and letting the little things go (because Luffy would have taught Ace the value of the more important things in life). While the three of them may be unaware of this, it could potentially be this common thread of being an 'older brother' that connects them so well. While Ace is very young still, he was forced to grow up too quick and he did raise Luffy like a parent would a child.
> 
> To the original point, however, Ace in this chapter had fixated on the two commanders' features. Their looks, their height, their scents. His desire to keep them by his side is so overpowering he loses himself often in his attempts to etch them in his memory, thus the excessive descriptions. Because Ace loves deeply. He loved Sabo and he never got to see him again. This could be his own subconscious way of preventing the same mistake.
> 
> As for Sabo's appearance, it really was meant to show how, at Ace's most open and vulnerable state (when would he ever openly admit he loved?), he still turned to Sabo, his past brother.
> 
> And yes, for those who noticed, Ace was so focused on deciding to leave he forgot to return the book to the café lady.
> 
> I know I usually don't spend time writing my thoughts per chapter out, but recently I've the urge to understand and dissect what I write and for what purpose each segment is for. Indulge me, eh?
> 
> With that said, please leave a review and let me know your thoughts! :) Your feedback and comments are always so encouraging.
> 
> P.S. Can you imagine this entire chapter was supposed to have been part of Chapter 1?!

**Author's Note:**

> I've always felt the way Ace had joined the crew to be particularly problematic. This is an exploration into Ace's inner psyche, and if he truly believes himself as part of the Whitebeard crew.
> 
> Do let me know your thoughts? :)


End file.
